


150 Reasons I Received Detention

by cheyla



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Inappropriate Humor, Mild Language, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 19:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 149
Words: 89,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1316611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheyla/pseuds/cheyla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know how there's certain rules that the general public can't do? Well they're kind of specific at times...Based off of 150 Things I Am Not Allowed to do at Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the Harry Potter universe or characters or the 150 Things I Am Not Allowed to Do at Hogwarts. I only own Faye.

You know how there are certain rules at school the general public can't do? Well for me, they've gotten kind of specific. I really can't help it. I'm just the kind of person that can't keep still or that can't shut up. I really try but I always seem to somehow get in trouble. Everyone says it's my ideas but I think they're really good! It's just the teachers don't always agree with them. They call me idiotic. I think I'm a genius. I mean, who else thought of the ideas that I have. NO ONE! That's right! NO ONE! MWUHAHAHA!

Mum says that I should try to calm down and trust me, I've really tried! It's just…it's so tempting. Dad told my teachers that I'd grow on them after awhile, which I believe I have. I mean, I haven't been expelled or anything. That's pretty good considering the seven years I spent there. But now I'm an upperclassman….er…woman…I shall rule the world! MWUHAHAHA!

What are those rules I mentioned at the beginning of this rant you ask? Well, listen and I shall tell.


	2. Rule #1

**Rule #1: I shall not poke Hufflepuffs with spoons, nor will I insist that their House colors indicate that they are covered in bees.**

First of all, I should probably start off with my name and some basic history. It's Faye. I do have a last name but I've decided that my last name is on a need-to-know basis and I'm pretty positive that you don't need to know it. My dad is a wizard (he was a Ravenclaw) and my mum is a muggle, so that makes me a half-blood.

When I was eleven, I came to Hogwarts and was sorted in Slytherin. Now let me tell you, by the next morning, my House mates weren't sure whether to love me, kill me, or be scared of me. Obviously since I'm writing this down, they opted to love me or be scared of me. Mostly, it's the latter. All the other Houses are scared of me because of the random times I've appeared in their common rooms. But that's another story.

The rule stated above became a rule soon after I had been sorted into Slytherin. It didn't happen on the first night, but it definitely happened during the first week. It was during that first week that Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, and I became good friends. Really good friends.

Anyways, back to the rule.

It had been at dinner one night during the first week of classes. Since I had arrived at Hogwarts, there had been something bugging me about the House colors of Hufflepuff. I could have sworn that I had seen those same colors somewhere else in my life.

It actually had been bugging me since the first night at Hogwarts. I just couldn't remember the reason behind it until our first day in Herbology, which had been with the Ravenclaws. Professor Sprout had been giving us a basic lesson about plants and how they grew into mature plants. A few of the students giggled when she mentioned the fact that birds and bees were the main pollinators of plants. No doubt they had been given the Birds and the Bees speech before they came to Hogwarts.

Okay, I'll admit it. I laughed the hardest.

After I was done laughing and Professor Sprout had given us our assignment, I found myself humming a song my mother had taught me when I had been much younger and was fascinated by flowers and outdoor picnics.

"If it's black and yellow and if it moves, then we poke it with a spoon." I could hear my mother singing her made up little tune in my head. I hummed that tune for the rest of the day, imprinting it into my classmates' minds. I'm pretty sure the original version was "whack it with a spoon" but my mother refused to kill any creature, even if they were of the insect variety.

That brings us to dinner. I was still humming the song, despite the dirty looks I was getting, especially from a boy named Draco and a girl named Pansy. That's when the black and yellow clad Hufflepuffs caught my eye.

"That's it!" I jerked upright, startling those that sat nearest to me. I grabbed the largest spoon I could find that was semi-clean. I say semi-clean because it was still covered in pudding, but the handle was clean so I didn't have to worry about getting my hands dirty.

Humming my song louder, I skipped over to the Hufflepuff table and stuck my face between two of the more squirmy first years. They gave me the weirdest looks and started to move away.

"Gah! It moved!" I screeched and poked both of them with spoons, hard. They flinched and started moving away even faster this time.

"It moved again!" I poked them again even harder this time, flinging pudding on the ones closest to them. The ones sitting by them ducked and it was their turn to get poked.

As I kept poking the Hufflepuffs whenever they moved, I didn't notice at the time the Great Hall was completely silent with the exception of the few students that were giggling. I also didn't notice Professor Snape stalking up to me, with a look that could kill.

Once close enough, he grabbed my arm and began dragging me away from the officially traumatized Hufflepuffs.

"What on Earth were you thinking?" He asked in a slow, dangerous voice once we were outside the Great Hall.

I was furious that I had been taken away before I could get rid of all the bees.

"The Hufflepuffs are covered in bees!" I informed him, crossing my arms, while still holding my pudding-covered spoon. "Haven't you ever heard the song 'If it's black and yellow and if it moves, we poke it with a spoon'?"

My Head of House blinked a few times, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Curiously, I licked the spoon in my hand. Yum, chocolate pudding.

"Pudding?" I asked, holding out the spoon to Professor Snape. He scowled a most ferocious scowl.

"Detention!" He barked out and promptly dragged me off to my first detention of my Hogwarts career.


	3. Rule #2

**Rule #2: Growing marijuana or hallucinogenic mushrooms is not "an extra credit project for Herbology"**

Looking at the rule above, I have to wonder if it was the actual growing of the marijuana and mushrooms that got me in trouble or if it was the fact that I was attempting to sell them to my classmates (The ones in the other houses at least. My fellow Slytherins had long since learned not to eat, touch, or come anywhere near anything that I was involved in).

Okay, I know it needs to be said that a twelve-year-old should not know about "pot" or "shrooms". However, my parents raised me to be cautious of dangerous things both Muggle and Wizard, they naturally taught me to avoid people with drugs. Yes, that includes the crazy people in the white coats with those huge needles and tiny, little, colorful pills! Not that I ever had a problem with avoiding them. They scared me to begin with.

I mean, honestly, who has that terrible of handwriting? Clearly they never passed primary school.

Anyways, back to the creation of the rule.

I had been doing a detention in the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid for some reason or another but I had long lost the half-giant. I honestly can't remember what I did to earn that particular detention. The only reason I remember this incident is because they made a rule about it. I'm sure that by now I've spent more time in detention than out of it. More than Potter and those Weasley twins, that's for sure. Though some of those things that the Weasley twins pulled off, I can never top. Then again, it's not like I try. These things just happen!

Anyways, I was in the Forbidden Forest doing my detention, when I came across a group of centaur yearlings passing around a pipe. It was a rather odd sight and the area in which they stood smelled horrible, but I was still undeniably curious. After all, they seemed to be having a good time.

"What cha' doin'?" I had asked, hoping to get in on this good time as well. I can't blame it if I wanted to make more friends. After all, my housemates avoided me at any cost in the Common Room and I hadn't quite figured out the passwords to the other Houses' Common Rooms. Or where they were located…

However, I could feel my chances of that happening screech to a halt when they all jumped to their feet…err…hooves.

"They are plants that allow us to see what can not normally be seen." One of the braver yearlings snorted after he had recovered from his scare. None of the centaurs looked happy to see me in the forest.

At his comment I could merely blink, not fully understanding what he meant. How could you see things that could not be seen? Weren't invisible things meant to stay invisible?

"So you can see things written in invisible ink?" I asked, and continued on before any of the centaurs could answer, "That is so cool! Where can I find these plants?"

Unfortunately, none of the centaurs answered my question. Instead they chose to leave. However, in their quick departure, they left behind the still burning pipe. I, being a very curious Slytherin, decided to investigate. After all, I wanted to be able to read invisible ink.

The smell coming from the pipe instantly deterred me, as did the sight of the yet-to-be burned plants sitting beside it. I recognized those plants. Those were the plants my mum taught me to avoid and to never, ever, ever, never smoke. Something about it destroying my brain cells.

And, according to her, I needed every single one of those brain cells. After all, even the runt of the litter counts!

"Yucky." I scrunched up my nose. Still, I couldn't get over the fact that these plants made you able to see invisible ink. Inside my mind, there was turmoil. Should I obey my mum and stay far away from these brain-killing drugs or did I want to see the invisible ink.

Then it hit me. I may not be able to smoke the marijuana but other people could be my test dummies! They could tell me what the invisible ink said.

The only problem was getting the plants into the castle. After a few happenstances earlier in the year, the teachers were very wary of students bringing things into the castle that weren't immediately recognizable.

Thankfully, there's a class at Hogwarts called Herbology. The professor who teaches it is actually pretty nice, compared to some of the others. As long as I didn't knock over or destroy any plants, she was perfectly fine with letting my antics slide.

The next morning I caught her leaving the dining hall just before morning classes began.

"Professor Sprout, I was wondering if I could do an extra credit project for Herbology. I'll admit that my grades aren't the best at the moment." Actually, they were terrible but I blamed that on my lack of focus. Honestly, who wanted to sit at a boring old desk and do homework when there were so many other things to do, like challenging the knights to duels and touching up the paintings?

Professor Sprout looked at me warily but she didn't say anything, so I just plowed ahead.

"My plan was to examine how magical fertilizer effected certain Muggle plants." I explained, trying to be as vague as possible. I actually didn't plan to do anything of the sort. However, I needed a story and I'm very good at thinking on the spot.

Professor Sprout's eyes lit up at my idea. I could hear some of my housemates snorting in the background. Unlike Professor Sprout, they didn't think my idea was all that great.

"Of course!" She agreed. "As long as it doesn't affect your other work in the class. Maybe at the end of the project you can present your findings to the class and if everything works out, we may try something like that in future years."

I only nodded happily and gave her a large hug.

"Thank you so much!" I thanked her very sincerely, keeping my eyes wide and innocent like.

After that encounter, I promptly skipped my classes for the day and set up my own little greenhouse in my corner of the Common Room. I didn't need to grow any of the plants, I just needed a place that would allow me to cultivate and harvest them when the time was right.

It only took less than two weeks. After I realized that the time was right, I caught up to Lee Jordan after he was leaving Transfiguration and promptly tackled him to the ground. The other Gryffindors weren't so keen on my choice of tactics and a brawl ensued between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins. Luckily the older Slytherins were looking for a fight that day; otherwise my plans would have gone to ruins.

During the brawl, I slipped away, dragging Lee Jordan with me by the back of his robes. Sure I may have choked him a little in the process but I needed a tester!

"For ten sickles, I can supply you and your friends with these amazing plants that can do the unthinkable!" I informed him, pushing him into the wall slightly. He looked slightly scared and put out that I was able to do so. So apparently, word about me had reached him. Perfect.

"Meet me at midnight in the greenhouses." I pushed him against the wall for good measure and he nodded, now looking confused. In return, he received a bright smile from yours truly and I skipped away, acting as if nothing had happened. Hopefully no one would notice that I was late to Potions.

Midnight came and went. I kicked the greenhouse wall grumpily when Lee Jordan didn't show up. My night had not gone well and this only made things worse.

After dinner, Professor Snape had visited the Common Room and had seen my makeshift garden. I hadn't been in the Common Room at the time, so needless to say I was very surprised when I came back from the library and found Professor Snape examining my precious plants. A few questions and skeptical looks and I was all set to go…with another detention. Something about mouthing off was his reason I think.

Then I had troubles sneaking out of the Common Room with my plants. It didn't help that I had to make multiple trips. I had nearly been caught three times—once by Professor McGonagall, and twice by Filch and his cat. I'm all for keeping pets but his cat is just plain scary when she sneaks up on you.

So, there I was, kicking the wall and waiting for my buyers to show up when the light flicked on and introduced me to a sight scarier than any of those horror movie scenes—Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, both glaring at me with crossed arms.

I don't think I've ever screamed as loud as I did when I saw them.

"What were you thinking? Growing those plants in order to sell them! I've never had a student attempt to do such a thing," Professor McGonagall ranted. "Out of bed after hours, growing illegal plants under the illusion of an extra credit project in broad daylight."

I grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of my head. Okay, so it wasn't my brightest idea.

I looked at Professor Snape pleadingly, begging him to take me away from the peeved woman. He crossed his arms and sighed before uttering those words that I was slowly becoming accustomed to hearing.

"Detention!"


	4. Rule #3

**Rule Number 3: No matter how good a fake Australian accent I can do, I will not imitate Steve Irwin during Care of Magical Creatures class.**

Okay, this might not have been a rule at all if we had not studied Blast-Ended Skrewts in third year and if I had not spent the summer watching re-runs of the Crocodile Hunter. I'm sure I was not the only one (that was half-blood or muggleborn at least—I can totally understand if the purebloods hadn't because most of them don't even know what a car is, let alone a TV) that put together Hagrid's accent and those reptilian looking Skrewts and instantly thought of the Crocodile Hunter. After all, that was an amazing show and Steve Irwin was an amazing man.

I also may or may not have been waiting to do this ever since I found out that there was a class called Care of Magical Creatures. It would have been more ideal if we had been studying dragons, since they were the closest to crocodiles, but the Skrewts would do.

"Crikey, he's a big boy."

Everyone stared at me like I was crazy. I don't know if it was because of my accent or because I was the only brave enough to get within ten feet of the now four-feet long Skrewts. I continued to creep along the ground, closer to one of the Skrewts, preparing to land on its head. I always wanted to try those croc-wrestling moves I had seen.

"Whoo, look at this beaut. Look at that  _goh_ -geous stingeh on it. Nice size there, nice size." The Skrewt turned to face me and lunged.

"Whoa, steady there mate." I said, drawing back and checking for any bites. "Steady there."

This was actually pretty fun. I can see now why Steven Irwin chose this as his career. It was such an adrenaline rush, barely avoiding the danger that was snapping, bone-crushing jaws and paralyzing, deadly venom. I wonder what he would have done in the face of dragons, hippogriffs and Skrewts?

I danced around the Skrewts, trying to see how close I could get before they got irritated enough to attack me. It was great practice for honing my reflexes. Soon I would be the fastest person in my year!

Occasionally I would throw in a whistle or a "Crikey!" or a random sentence in my awesome Steve Irwin accent. I failed to notice that each time I approached a Skrewt, my classmates inched further away. It wasn't until Professor McGonagall showed up that I had realized that everyone in my class was seeking refuge in the castle itself. Quick little buggers, they were.

"What do you think you're doing?" Professor McGonagall cried from behind me as I went for another approach. I jumped, because like I said, I hadn't seen her coming.

"G'day Professor McGonagall!" I waved at her with a bright smile, still using my crocodile hunter accent. "I'm huntin' these fabulous beauts."

She stared at me with her hard gaze and my grin faltered a bit. That gaze usually meant that I was in trouble and about to get a detention. I had seen it enough to know.

I had called it. A few minutes later, she was dragging me into the castle by my ear, muttering under her breath. I caught the phrases "Deliberately putting herself in danger!" and "Mocking a teacher!" She was ignoring my protestations of innocence as she dragged me down the familiar path to Professor Snape's office. It was beginning to become like a second home to me.

The door to his office opened and the Potions Professor did not look happy to see me. He did look resigned, though, as if he had expected to see me sometime today. After all, it was a Friday and I hadn't been down for my weekly visit.

"G'day Professor Snape!" He and Professor McGonagall traded looks. I never understood how they could have conversations using just their eyes. I wish I had that talent. It would be really useful.

"Faye," Professor Snape began. I sighed.

"I know, I know," I whined, sitting down.

"Detention."


	5. Rule #4

**Rule Number 4: "I've heard every possible joke about Oliver Wood's name" is not a challenge**

I still maintain my innocence on this one. It was just a series of bad timing, both on my part and on Professor McGonagall's part. It was funny to see the look on her face though. It was honestly like she couldn't believe that a second year could know those types of jokes.

I'm personally still very impressed with myself. Even I have a hard time believing I was able to come up with so many jokes about his name.

Heh, Oliver Wood. It's been years and his name still makes me laugh. I really must thank Marcus Flint one day for issuing that lovely challenge, even though Professor McGonagall says it wasn't  _really_  a challenge. Of course, she has to say that to protect Oliver Wood. She's his Head of House after all.

So…

I should probably start the story now. Anyways…

It all started with a—

Scratch that.

One day, in the Slyt—

Nope, still not the way to go. Hm…

The day was dreary, cold, and miserable.

There we go.

One dreary, cold, miserable day, in the Slytherin Common Room, I had just so happened to be studying (okay, listening to my yearmates and copying down whatever they said is probably more accurate). As I was going about my schoolwork, I happened to overhear a conversation between Marcus Flint, captain of the Quidditch team, and the rest of the Quidditch team. They were plotting new ways to psych out the Gryffindor team before the next match. Malfoy was trying to convince the others to go the name-calling route. So immature…

"We need something more original," another member tried to discourage him. "It's fine for the newer members of the team but after a while, they get used to the names and move on."

"Not to mention I've heard every possible joke about Oliver Wood's name," Marcus Flint agreed. "Hell, I've come up with the majority of them."

Hearing that, I just had to interrupt. I stuck my head into their little circle and stared Flint dead in the eyes.

"I will take you up on that challenge," I informed him with a happy smile. He just rolled his eyes. Of everyone in Slytherin, he was probably one of the few that actually liked my ingenuity. He had recruited me a couple of times for some plotting but those had always ended in disaster. Here's the thing. I don't actually plot what I do, with the exception of a few cases. I just do what I want and it usually ends up in something exploding and me getting into trouble.

"All jokes have to be in mine and Wood's presence." See what I mean? Totally a challenge!

"Are you often in the presence of Wood?" I asked cheekily. Malfoy choked a little at my comment. Flint just raised an eyebrow.

"Heard it."

"Damn."

I stayed up late that night, planning out some of the jokes I could use the next morning at breakfast. I had to be absolutely positive that they were genius.

"Morning Wood!" I chirped, walking into the Great Hall. Oliver Wood gave me a wary look as I waved to him and sat down next to Marcus Flint.

"Heard it," Flint informed me.

"Think the Gryffindors have Wood?" I tried again.

"Heard it."

"Think they have wood for Oliver Wood?"

"Try again."

"How big is his wood? If it's small, then the last name is just there to deceive people."

"Better but I've still heard it, second year." He did NOT start the whole second year thing again. I have a name, you know!

The banter continued until the end of breakfast. Unfortunately, Flint and I had to go our separate ways for classes. Looking over at Oliver Wood, who was extremely red and had his head down on the table, I had one last parting shot for Flint.

"Admit it, I'm just like Oliver Wood, baby. I'm a Keeper!"

Flint and the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team cackled.

"Heard it," Flint responded as he left the Great Hall.

Things continued much the same way at lunch. However, this time we had an audience. Most of the other Slytherins decided to listen in, not just the Quidditch team. Though, I'm pretty sure they were also betting on how long it would take for a teacher to catch on and for me to get a detention. Losers. I wasn't going to get caught this time!

"King Wood, known for his massive—" I started in a dramatic, TV narrator's voice.

"Heard it."

"Oliver Wood, keeper of the wooden sticks."

"Heard it."

"Oliver Wood, rider of the wood."

"Nope."

"Ollie the Woodboy."

"Try again."

"Holly-Wood?"

"These are getting worse, not better." I glared at Flint for that comment. I narrowed my eyes.

"Gryffindor is all over Wood."

Flint snorted and shook his head. I looked down at my list.

"How does Wood get his broomstick up? Not at all or too easily?"

The snickers from the table attracted the attention of a few of the professors. Professor McGonagall approached her House's Quidditch Captain, who was once again a bright red.

"Having a problem, Mr. Wood?" She asked in her proper teacher tone. The Slytherin Quidditch team shook with silent laughs.

"No, Professor," Oliver Wood replied, sending a glare our way. She followed his gaze to where I was sitting.

"Don't you have classes to get to?" she wanted to know. "I believe the second years have Potions in five minutes."

We did? Oh shit!

I don't think I've ever run that fast to the dungeons. And I was still late! Luckily, Professor Snape decided not to give me a detention. The Gryffindors assumed it was because I was in Slytherin House but the Slytherins knew the truth. It was because I was still serving detentions from the last explosion I made. I still don't know how a water-based charm turned into a fire-based charm…

At dinner, I decided that I would have to kick it up a notch. Or twenty.

"Hey Flint, is Wood hard to get by?"

"Try again."

"Does Wood have a hard head?"

"Already heard it."

"Running out of Wood? Need some? Oliver has some."

"Nope."

"Well we all clearly know that Wood is holding up everything."

"Still no."

"You know what I heard the Gryffindor Quidditch team telling their captain the other day? Ah-love-your Wood."

"Heard it."

"Does Oliver Wood give his all to the team, if you know what I mean?"

"I made that up two years ago."

"Oliver Wood. Riding brooms and grabbing balls since 1987."

"Nope."

"Oh look, he's riding a wooden stick. Is that why they call him Oliver Wood?"

"Try again, second year." Again with the second year! I have a name!

"Wood has the biggest broom in Gryffindor."

"Hardly."

"Have you met Oliver? He knows his wood."

"Amateur." Oh no he didn't!

"If he has the longest broom and a last name of Wood, he's clearly compensating for something."

"Didn't you already use that one?"

I waved his question off.

"Blocking someone else's balls? Oliver, didn't anyone ever tell you that no one likes a cockblock?"

That one drew the loudest laugh yet.

"I was talking to Angelina Johnson the other day. I told her 'you're the woodpecker; there's some Wood. Go get 'em!'"

A horrified gasp came from behind me. Flint and I turned to see Hermione Granger looking at Slytherin table with an appalled expression on her face."

"That's disgusting! You shouldn't say things like that." She exclaimed. I rolled my eyes and retorted in a true Malfoy manner.

"Dear lord, does Oliver need to shove his wood in your mouth to get you to shut up, you filthy mudblood?"

Hermione looked furious but she just huffed and stomped away. She clearly knew she could do nothing without her buddies.

"It wouldn't surprise me," I heard Draco mutter under his breath. "I bet Wood would've loved to shove his wood in that place. The lot of Gryffindors are mudblood lovers."

I whistled lowly and held up a hand. I pulsed it for a high-five. Malfoy rolled his eyes but obliged. He was used to it and he knew that I wouldn't stop until he had given me a high-five. He  _had_  put up with me for two years.

"I knew I liked you," I told him, a proud smile on my face. Flint just shook his head.

"Fairly new, but I'm not giving you full credit. You had help on that one." I pouted at his declaration and finally decided to pull out my final and most epic joke.

"How much wood can Oliver Wood fuck if Oliver Wood could fuck wood?"

"Miss Anderson!" I froze at the familiar, shocked voice. I turned sheepishly.

"Professor McGonagall!" I greeted her. She looked furious and utterly appalled. I cringed inwardly. I was in for the lecture of a lifetime. Even today I still shudder at the lecture she had given me that day. Like always, it was followed after one word that would determine my fate for the next few days—err…weeks.

"Detention!"


	6. Rule #5

**Rule #5: Putting up Doug Henning posters in Filch's office is not appropriate.**

My first thought when I remember this rule? How is this not appropriate to do? It's inspirational! I thought it would encourage the man and once he was able to do magic, he would become less bitter to us students.

My second thought? I honestly used to feel bad for Filch at times. Just not at times when I'm serving detention with him. However, I will admit that his detentions aren't nearly as bad as Professor McGonagall's detentions. Or Professor Snape's. He may look the other way with most of the minor incidents but lately his last few detentions have been pure hell. Anyways, back to Filch.

It didn't take long for us students to notice that Argus Filch was a squib. After all, who would choose to clean by hand when they had magic at their disposal? If it had been any other person in the school that was a squib, most of the students would have looked the other way. However, it was Filch and that meant the Hufflepuffs didn't even like him. The _Hufflepuffs_  for crying out loud!

Still, he had the power to give us detention so us students had to resort to ignoring him, staying out of his way, and insulting him behind his back. Yes, I said us. I've taken part in doing that because honestly? I'm a Slytherin and we can be pretty snarky at times. Heh, snarky. That's a funny word.

 _Anyways…_ back to the story. This was back at the time when I used to feel bad for Filch and when I didn't quite understand the differences between Muggle magic and actual magic. So this took place around first year, most likely. Maybe second year. I really can't remember. After a while these things tend to blur together.

"I still don't get it," I told Blaise Zabini, the boy who was most willing to explain things to me. "I mean, even Muggles can do magic."

"No, they can't," the dark-skinned boy said in an exasperated tone. "That's why they're called Muggles. Muggles are folk that can't use magic."

I rolled my eyes.

"Of course they can't  _use_  magic," I snapped. "But they can still  _do_  magic."

Blaise stared at me like I was crazy and he had no idea what I was talking about.

"That makes absolutely no sense," he told me. I scowled at him.

"Your face makes no sense," I replied. Not the greatest of comebacks but I was eleven. Great comebacks weren't my specialty at that young age.

For the rest of the term, Blaise and I argued about actual magic and Muggle magic. We were both determined to prove the other wrong. We still are. No one's won that particular debate yet.

During the Christmas holidays of that year, I had spent most of my time practicing Muggle magic tricks to show off to Blaise and prove that for once, I was in fact right. My parents had accepted it as another phase of mine and the majority of my Christmas presents were books about how to do Muggle magic. The pictures were pretty fascinating but I couldn't understand the instructions for the life of me. Dad just said that it meant that I was a hands-on learner. He also mentioned that it would be very beneficial for me later on but I still haven't quite figured out what he meant. Dad always says odd things like that so I just ignore him for the most part. I never ignore my mother though. She's scary when she's mad.

After the Christmas holidays, on a day when I was feeling particularly bad for old Filch, I decided to be a giving person and share with him something I had found particularly inspirational when I had attempted to do Muggle magic. My collection of Doug Henning posters.

Those posters were absolutely amazing! I mean, the guy wasn't the greatest looking guy on the planet but at that time in my life, I wasn't particularly concerned with that. I was more interested in the fact that he was floating in most of them. FLOATING! We had only just learned how to make objects fly. We hadn't learned how to make ourselves fly. And trust me when I say that  _Wingardium Leviosa_  does not work on people. I've tried. Multiple times.

So later that night, when I knew Filch would be making his rounds, I snuck into his office with a couple of my Doug Henning posters and with some of my own. Pretty soon the walls of Filch's office were covered from top to bottom with posters with inspirational phrases on them. Some that were included went like:  _Illusion or Reality, The Magic Show, Merlin, Just Believe!,_ and  _If Muggles can do it, why can't YOU?_

It didn't take long to paste them on the walls but apparently it took long enough for Mrs. Norris to sniff me out. I swear, it's like she  _knows_. She's sneaky about it, too. I didn't see her until I had stepped on her tail.

I swear, my heart must have stopped for a second when she let out that ear-splitting yowl. It was the most horrifying sound I had heard in my life. It was even worse than Pansy Parkinson singing in the shower. Trust me, her singing is hard to beat when it comes to frightening sounds.

True to nature, it only took Filch three seconds to appear in his office doorway. When he saw me lying on the floor, with Mrs. Norris trying to scratch the living daylights out of me, he was furious. When he saw the posters covering his office, he became livid. When he saw the crooked tip of Mrs. Norris' tail, he passed all the other stages of anger and gave me his 'Shit is going to hit the fan and you're going to be cleaning it off with your tongue' look that signified he was completely pissed off.

"Detention!"


	7. Rule #6

**Rule Number Six: I will not go to class skyclad**

Before I start off this story, can I just ask you one question. Who has ever heard the stories of witches performing spells skyclad? Honestly! It's like a tradition among witches, at least in the novels. All the witches do it!

Apparently Hogwarts doesn't follow the books. Pure stupidity, in my opinion. Everyone knows that books can't lie.

Though, maybe it's only in Hogwarts that witches don't go skyclad. Maybe they do everywhere else. If that's the case, then what makes Hogwarts so special? Why is Hogwarts the only place that doesn't allow it?

Now, time for the story!

The summer before my fourth year, I got dragged along to a party that was commemorating twenty-five years since my dad had graduated from Hogwarts. Yeah, I know. He's  _old…_  I didn't let him live that down for weeks.

It was pretty fun as adult parties went. The food was good and some of my schoolmates were there for me to torture—err, hang out with. I totally meant hang out with. I had nothing to do with the Hufflepuff that found himself hanging from the ceiling by his socks.

After that particular scene went down, I decided to hang around my parents for awhile in case the Hufflepuff decided to talk about what all went down. My father was talking with Professor Flitwick, his House Head in the day. I guess some things haven't changed. The other House Heads were in the room as well. Every single one of them was giving me wary looks, as if they expected me to pull out a grenade and blow the place up. Ridiculous. I would  _never_  do something like that. Too messy.

"You certainly had an interesting year," Professor Flitwick was saying. "I remember when those exchange students tried to come to class skyclad. I don't think I've ever seen ruomrs"

"That was a great day," my father agreed, chuckling. My mother promptly elbowed him in the ribs. She may be small, but she's deadly.

At the time, the term skyclad was unfamiliar to me but that was something that was easily fixed by taking a trip to the nearest library and looking in a dictionary. Once I knew what it meant, I had to admit it. Those exchange students were genius!

I think that I should admit that this is one of the few things that I have actually  _planned._ Of course, can you blame me for planning this. Once again—pure genius!

At the Welcoming Feast at the beginning of school, none of the other Slytherins were willing to sit by me. I got stuck with the first years.  _Again…_ Not that I blame my fellow housemates. Even I'll admit that I probably went a little overboard that night, with my evil cackling and mischievous looks at the other students. I think I sent a Hufflepuff to the hospital wing. Actually scratch that. I  _did_ send a Hufflepuff to the hospital wing. The same one that ended up on the ceiling earlier in the summer. I think that I'm just bad for his health overall…

First class of fourth year was Defense Against the Dark Arts with that new professor. The pink one. I can never remember her name, even though she was the only female Defense professor that we've had so far. She nearly ruined my plans, refusing to let us use magic in her class. However, I showed her that I was a true Slytherin! Nothing ever stops me once I put my plans in motion!

"Please put your wands away and pull out your quills to copy the sentences on the board four times to ensure maximum retention," the pink professor said in her crisp voice. Even thinking back on it, her voice makes me cringe. I took a deep breath. It was time. I either did this now or I would never do it. I could  _not_  let this idea go to waste.

"Wait!" I cried, standing up and placing my hands on my desk. My classmates gave me wary looks. They were familiar with my outbursts in class by now. It never ended prettily for me but it provided them with entertainment.

"Fellow students, especially my fellow witches," I began once everyone's eyes were on me. "It has come to my attention that we have not been following traditional lore! Hogwarts has abandoned one of the most sacred traditions to witchkind!"

I could see a couple Slytherins already looking like they wanted to hit their heads on their desks and deny that they had ever met me. That was funny. They usually save that for after I've disgraced the Slytherin name….Oh well. I just continued on.

"I declare that from now on…" I paused for dramatic affect. "That we go to class skyclad!"

Immediately upon finishing my declaration, I dropped my robes. Like a true witch, I wore nothing beneath them. The girls in the room blushed and looked away, the boys stared, and the pink professor…

Well, let's just say she looked like a toad being choked until its face was puffed up and its eyes had bulged to the point where they were about to pop out.

"D-Detention!"


	8. Rule #7

Rule #7: The Giant Squid is not an appropriate date to the Yule Ball

It all started one day when I went skinny-dipping in the Black Lake. It wasn't the first time, but it was definitely one of the more memorable times. You see, I had a dilemma that had been plaguing me for the past couple of weeks and it was quite noticeable to everyone at Hogwarts. I had become quiet and withdrawn as I contemplated this dilemma and Hogwarts was holding its breath for what would come from this unusual silence.

There were those that enjoyed my silence. The professors were among those, especially Professors Snape and McGonagall. They were a bit on edge and prepared to give me detention for the slightest misdeed—anything to restore order at Hogwarts—but I was behaving like an angel as I thought over my current situation. Everyone else that wasn't enjoying my silence twitched and shifted nervously whenever they were in my presence. They were sure I was planning something that would shake Hogwarts to its core.

Now, what sort of dilemma was I in? Why, it's the age-old dilemma that every girl is bound to find herself in at least once in her life.

I didn't have a date to the Yule Ball.

To you that may not seem like a huge deal but to me it was. Hogwarts was having the first Yule Ball in over a century and I couldn't go because I wasn't a fourth year and I didn't have a date that was at least a fourth year.

"I want to go," I whined one day, about a week before the Yule Ball, as I was skinny-dipping. "Why can't I go?"

"Go where? To the deep dark depths of the Black Lake where you'll drown and leave Hogwarts in peace?"

My head jerked up at the snide comment and I splashed some water in the direction of Blaise Zabini, who was sitting near the edge of the lake. He avoided it using a water repellant charm. Jerk. Always ruining my fun.

"I'd never drown. The Giant Squid would never allow it," I retorted.

"With the amount of time you spend in here naked, people will begin to speculate that you and the Giant Squid are in a forbidden relationship."

I laughed at that. I liked this kid. He understood my humor to some extent.

"And if we are?" I asked, swimming deeper into the dark water.

"Then he should be your date." I raised my eyebrow.

"That is one of the most ridiculous things I have ever heard," I said. Blaise gave me an odd look.

"Really?" he asked, more to himself than to me. It was as if he couldn't believe that I was saying that something was ridiculous.

Okay. I'll admit it. It sounds weird to me, too.

For the next few minutes, Zabini and I stared at each other in silence. Then he sighed a really long sigh.

"Fine," he said. "I'll make you a deal that will most likely end in restoring order to Hogwarts. You attempt to bring the Giant Squid to the Yule Ball as your date and when you get caught—"

I opened my mouth to protest. I never get caught! Okay, most times I don't get caught. All right. I get caught every single time. Blaise glared at me until I closed my mouth. Geez, he's so bossy.

"As I was saying, when you get caught and get detention—which you will," Blaise gave me a glare as I opened my mouth to protest again. I closed it again and he continued. "Order will be restored to Hogwarts and I'll agree to be your date to the Yule Ball. Then, you'll be happy, everyone will be relaxed again, and you can wreck havoc on whoever and whatever you want."

"Okay," I chirped. "Just one thing."

Blaise gave me an irritated look, as if he couldn't believe that I was demanding something from him after he was doing this great favor for me. Well, I was a Slytherin. I'm always going to demand something.

"What?" he asked. I smiled up at him sweetly.

"You stand me up and your mother will be another man short in her life," I said. "Understand?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow. I giggled inwardly. Oh, how I loved threatening people. It was so…Slytherin. Very fitting, as that's what House I was Sorted in.

The night of the Yule Ball, I changed into my dress robes and skipped down to the lake. Yes, skipped. For the record, it's very hard to skip in confining dress robes. Honestly, I'm amazed they didn't rip.

"Oh, Mr. Giant Squid!" I called into the water. "Come out, come out wherever you are! We have a date that we absolutely cannot miss!"

"What the devil are you doing?" I turned at the sound of a voice. Just like I had planned, there was Professor Snape. I smiled innocently at him.

"Going to the Yule Ball?" I replied.

"You're a third year." His voice was flat and not amused.

"Yes, but my date has attended school here for many years now."

"The Giant Squid is not a student nor a guest from one of the other schools, and therefore cannot be considered your date to the Yule Ball. Try again."

I sighed. I needed to hear that one word so I could go to the Yule Ball. Time to kick things up a notch.

I sniffed haughtily.

"Well I believe it counts and we shouldn't discriminate. I believe that the Giant Squid could be a student at Hogwarts if he so wanted. Therefore, he can be my date."

"Nice try but it won't work. I know about your deal with Mr. Zabini and I won't allow it to happen."

I cursed in my mind. How did he always know everything? It wasn't fair!

I stuck a hand in the water, grabbed a tentacle of the lurking Giant Squid and pulled upwards. Surprised, the beast pulled away, nearly dragging me into the water, and slipped into the depths of the Black Lake. Dang it! Now I wouldn't be able to take him to the castle!

"What are you going to do now?" Professor Snape asked. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought that he was baiting me. However, I knew better and was well aware that Professors never did anything of the sort. Right…

I scowled up at the smug expression on his face and did the only thing I could…

I bit him.

His howl pierced the air and I heard that one word I had actually been looking forward to hear for once in my life.

"DETENTION!"


	9. Rule #8

Rule #8: I will not use Umbridge's quill to write, "I told you I was hardcore"

So remember when I was telling you about rule number six and how that pink toady was the person who gave me detention? (Yes, I know it's surprising that it wasn't Professor Snape or McGonagall) Well this rule sort of follows that one. It was put into effect only a day after that one. That must have been a record on my part.

Anyway, I had heard rumors about this quill of hers from those ever-complaining Gryffindors. Have you noticed how much they complain? I doubt anyone could have not noticed. Honestly! Day after day after day! You would think that they would run out of things to complain about but then I suppose they would just complain about not having things to complain about. Does that even make sense?

And I'm getting off track again. Back to the rule. The night I had detention was dark and lonely. Of course it had to be. It was nighttime, so obviously it was dark and it was lonely because I was the only one in Slytherin that had detention that night. Actually, I was the only one in Slytherin that had detention every night. Trust me, people were more surprised when I didn't have detention than when I did. Me having detention had already become old news.

Back to the story. I really need to work on this whole staying focused thing. I had heard rumors about this quill but I wasn't ready to believe them until I actually saw the bloody thing. And trust me, I mean literally bloody. That's the whole point of a blood quill, after all.

I knocked on the door, after a few minutes of debating of whether or not to just burst in, breaking down the door and making a grand entrance. Going against my good conscious, I decided not to. Thinking back, I really should have. Then she might have had a heart attack and died, saving me from months of constant constraint. Plus, the entire school would have loved me. It hadn't taken long for everyone to learn to hate her.

"Come in," she called in that irritating voice of hers. I resisted the urge to run far, far away.

"What can I do for you?" I asked her as I entered her torture room. I swear! Just spending five minutes in that room would make the hardest criminal crack! All those eyes! And the meowing! It was pure torture, I tell you!

"You will be doing some lines for me today," the pink toady said. I know, right? Just lines?

"Lines?" I repeated. She nodded.

"Yes, lines."

"And you really think that will work?" The pink toady nodded again.

"Where exactly did you learn to teach again? I mean, if you think lines will do anything to me, you're sorely mistaken." Sometimes I'm cursed with a mouth that will say anything my brain thinks of. It's a horrible trait but at the same time, it's so amusing to watch people's reactions when they hear what I'm thinking of. It's like they can't believe some of the stuff I can come up with.

"Believe me, these lines will work and if they don't, you can just come back again tomorrow night. But I think tonight, the lesson will really sink in."

I shrugged at her reply.

"Okay, then," I agreed. I sat down at the station she had already set up. Wow, she must have no time on her hands if she was able to set up the detention station beforehand. "What am I writing?"

"I must not make a spectacle of myself," the pink toady replied. I couldn't help the eye roll. She must have caught it, if her scowl was anything to go by.

Within seconds, I discovered that she did, in fact, have a blood quill. Oh, this was perfect! I already had ideas in mind of things I could do with this. Oh, the havoc I could create!

As I was writing, I may or may not have made some alterations to the line I was supposed to be copying. The pink toady didn't notice at all. She couldn't see what I was writing. She just thought I was being an obedient little girl. Oh, how wrong she was.

At the end of the detention period, I approached her with a large smile on my face. She looked surprised to see that I was smiling. Why would I be smiling after her cruel detention? Okay, so I may be a little bit of a masochist…but isn't everyone to some extent?

"Let's see these lines you wrote," she said, holding out her hand. Reluctantly (I didn't want to touch her. I didn't want to catch the toad!), I placed my hand in her sweaty palm.

"I told you I was hardcore," she read. Her eyes widened, creating a bulging look that was absolutely hilarious. She looked like a pinky toad being choked.

"This is not the line I told you to write!" she shrieked. I shrugged.

"I may have used some creative license," I replied. "I like my version a lot better. I shall wear this proudly!"

She gaped at me. I grinned even larger. She began to take deep breaths.

"You will come back tomorrow and you will do this right," she ordered, trying to sound calm. Let me just say, she was not succeeding.

"Can it be on the other hand, too?" I asked eagerly.

"Detention!"


	10. Rule #9

Rule #9: I will stop referring to showering as "giving Moaning Myrtle an eyeful."

If there's one thing I know how to do, it's how to twist words and phrases. I am a Slytherin, after all. It's something that comes natural to us.

However, this natural talent can be both amazing and very, very bad. On the one hand, my quick-thinking and turns of phrase have gotten me out of trouble on numerous occasions because no one could really prove that I was behind everything (even though most times I was). On the other hand, that same talent probably got me into trouble more than it got me out of trouble. It's not my fault that I have a smart mouth!

That's probably the reason why this rule was made.

One winter morning, I had been eavesdropping on the Gryffindors to catch the latest gossip. That's one of the many things they're good for. Don't tell any of the other Slytherins. They like to believe that Gryffindors are completely useless.

Back to Gryffindors gossiping. As I was eavesdropping, I heard one of the boys, Saint Potter I'd presume since his posse did the most gossiping after the Brown and Patil girl, complaining about Moaning Myrtle's input when he was trying to figure out his egg.

Wow, that sounded odd. Oh, well. That just confirms it was Potter. Brown and Patil just had boring gossip about who was snogging whom and who had detention. Before you ask, I will say that, yes, my name came up multiple times in their conversations. Their gossip was only good for blackmail opportunities. Potter's gossip on the other hand…

Now that was the juicy gossip. It never failed to provide me with ideas. It also gave me a feeling for what sort of mood the professors would be in.

Anyways, Potter was mentioning the ghost of Myrtle spying on him in the bath. Huh. That story just keeps sounding stranger and stranger.

This is where my fabulous talent of turning words to suit my whims came in. It only took a short amount of time for me to come up with it. I must admit, I started cackling like crazy when I came up with it. That's always a cue that my idea is pure genius. I never quite understood why people shudder whenever they hear me cackle. After all, it's not like I'm Lord Voldemort or anything. My cackle doesn't sound even remotely evil!

I was really sad when I learned that I couldn't put my plan into action until that night. There was no opportunity for it earlier.

"I'm going to take a shower," Crabbe (or was it Goyle? After three years I could still never tell them apart) grunted. As he walked toward the stairs leading to the dormitories, I waved at him.

"Have fun giving Moaning Myrtle an eyeful!" I called out to him. Everyone in the common room spared me an odd look before turning back to what they were doing. They were used to my shenanigans by now. Well, most people called them shenanigans. I called them genius.

It continued on for the rest of the night like that. Whenever someone would announce that they were taking a shower or getting ready for bed, I would wish them fun in giving Myrtle an eyeful. She was one lucky gal. She had all these people that were willingly letting her peep on them. I don't understand how she was so depressed all the time.

I will say, it was hilarious watching people's reactions to my new phrase. It seems like they had never even considered that a ghost could be watching them. Oh well. They learned something new. The funniest reactions were those Slytherins who realized what I meant and then suddenly didn't want to shower anymore. Oh, those poor first and second years. They were still so terrified of everything, including me. I'm sure some of them thought that I was the scariest Slytherin in the world. Babies. I'll be the first to admit that I have nothing on Lord Voldemort or the original Slytherin, Salazar Slytherin. Compared to them, I'm as terrifying as a butterfly.

"I don't want to take a shower!" a first year was whining at the end of the night. "I don't want Moaning Myrtle to spy on me! She's creepy!"

"Why would she want to spy on you?" the female prefect snapped, giving me a nasty look for making her night more difficult than it needed to be. "You're a girl. Myrtle's only interested in the boys."

"But—"

"Go take a shower and go to bed now," the prefect ordered. "Professor Snape won't appreciate you smelling during Potions."

I began cackling again. I wonder how that would go down.

I was able to continue on for a few more days. More and more first and second years stopped taking showers, too scared of Moaning Myrtle. I was kind of surprised that none of the older Slytherins or the prefects reported me. It wouldn't have been the first time that Professor Snape called me in to his office to scold me for something that someone had told him. I've gone to his office so many times that I could walk the route in my sleep.

Finally, Potions class came around. Apparently, some of the teachers had made comments to Professor Snape about the lack of hygiene in his first and second years since he had us making potions for basic glamours. It wouldn't change much about our outward appearances but these potions would at least make us look clean.

"If they're so easy to make, why does he never use one?" I overheard a Gryffindor hissing to his pal. They both laughed, causing Professor Snape to immediately take away five points. They weren't very happy but all us Slytherins enjoyed it.

As we worked on our potions, Professor Snape came around to make sure we weren't about to blow up any cauldrons. As he approached my table, I felt a question forming on the tip of my tongue. I honestly tried my hardest to not ask it, since I already had two weeks' worth of detention, but my mouth didn't listen to me.

"Professor Snape, do you not take showers because you don't want to give Moaning Myrtle an eyeful?"

The class was dead silent. I could see some of my yearmates staring at me like I was insane. One or two had their heads against their desks, mumbling under their breath. A couple Gryffindors snickered. Professor Snape didn't waste one second in giving out his answer.

"Detention."


	11. Rule #10

Rule # 10: Polishing my wand in the common room is acceptable. "Polishing my wand" in the common room is not acceptable.

Here's another rule that was created because I can't control my mouth. I still think it's hilarious but apparently the prefects and teachers don't. In fact, they think it's rather crude. Please. That's nowhere near crude. Not for me.

This idea also originated from one of the times I eavesdropped on the Gryffindors. Actually, if I remember right, this event actually took place a few weeks before the whole "giving Moaning Myrtle an eyeful" incident. I can barely keep everything straight. So many rules have been made in my honor. Everyone talks about the legacy of the Weasley twins but what about my legacy? I personally think that it should become a competition between the new students after I leave Hogwarts. That would be amazing. How many of Faye's rules could they break?

The professors would hate it but I would gladly come back and be the judge of a competition like that. That would be sheer awesomeness.

Anyway, back to the story.

It all started one day at breakfast near the beginning of breakfast.

"Oh, Harry!" Granger hissed as I got up from the Slytherin table. I made sure to walk as slowly as possible. She looked furious and that was usually a good cue that something interesting had happened.

"Polishing your wand without the right materials can be really dangerous! You're lucky only sparks came out!"

Pity. It wasn't as good as I had been hoping. I picked up my pace and took off for my first class—Charms.

At the time, it seemed like nothing genius would come out of what I just overheard but that was before I heard two Hufflepuffs talking in Charms. They thought they were being quiet but I had the advantage of sitting right behind them.

"So, did you—" one of them whispered to another. "You know—"

"Did I what?" the other boy inquired, clearly confused. Oh, that poor daft little Hufflepuff.

"Whomp your willow?"

Both boys blushed and the one being asked the question nodded. I choked back a laugh.

"What did it feel like?" the first one asked.

"Really good," the second one mumbled. My lips twitched as I began to think. Then I began to cackle, causing Professor Flitwick to fall off his chair in fright and the two boys to jump. Apparently they hadn't realized I was behind them. How embarrassing for them.

I walked around for the rest of the day, torn between smiling like a lunatic and getting so lost in my thoughts that I wouldn't pay attention to anything going on around me.

I was positive that it would be a brilliant plan but I just needed the perfect phrase. I needed something new, something original.

By dinnertime, I was getting desperate enough that I was going through every conversation I had ever heard that day for something that would work. I knew there had to be something, I knew I had heard the perfect phrase on that particular day, but for the life of me I couldn't remember where I had heard it or what it was.

Of course the one time I wasn't actively thinking of my plan, it came to me.

"Polishing your wand without the right materials can be dangerous! You're lucky only sparks came out!"

The grin on my face grew larger and I could have sworn that I saw a few Hufflepuffs shudder. I remember briefly thinking that I should perhaps lie off on torturing them. After all, that would look bad on the record, wouldn't it? Known for driving classmates mad?

It just so happened to work out in my favor that one of the Slytherin boys had to leave dinner early for something else. A detention with Filch most likely. That or a date at the library. Either way, it worked out perfectly for me. I know it's bad to pick on one of your own house but I couldn't resist. It was too perfect.

"Where are you off to?" I asked loudly as he passed me. "Off to polish your wand in the common room?"

The Slytherin boy in question turned a bright red at the insinuation. A few of the people who were listening snickered.

"W-what?" he stuttered. I blinked and pulled on my 'I'm completely innocent' face.

"I asked if you were off to polish your wand in the common room," I repeated. The boy gave no reply. He just turned redder, if that was possible, and stormed away. I turned back to my meal and resumed eating, wondering when I would hear those fateful words. Surprisingly, it wasn't until after dinner had finished and everyone was leaving.

"My classroom at nine. You have detention."


	12. Rule #11

Rule # 11: If a classmate falls asleep, I will not take advantage of that fact and draw the Dark Mark on their arm.

Can I just start off by saying that people are too paranoid? Honestly, there were times when people would see a stick and freak out because they thought it was a snake or the monster of Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets. Or they would see a piece of floating black cloth outside the window and think it was a dementor.

Okay, maybe it was just me hanging out above the window on a broom, dangling a cloak down to the window below. But really, watching them freak out was one of the funniest things in the world. I even made people faint! So what if Madam Hooch wasn't happy that I stole a broom or that Professor Sprout was upset that I skipped her lesson. The sight of those girls fainting made my week.

So, yeah. People are paranoid. That's the lesson I picked up from this event, though it's not the lesson I was supposed to learn. The rule states otherwise.

If you want to know what class it was, it was History of Magic. That's how it was so easy to get away with. Everyone but me and one or two others were asleep and Professor Binns was too focused on his droning voice to notice that I was doing anything. He never notices anything. He's even more unobservant than Crabbe and Goyle. And that is saying something. I mean, it's really saying something.

It started off as just random doodles on the arms and faces of the Hufflepuffs. A mustache there, a smiley face here, a person being stabbed with a knife over there—I was quite inventive. I didn't touch my housemates, though. I didn't need them to be angry with me. They were just getting over the last incident.

After a while, I began to run out of things to draw. I had taken care of most of the basics and some more "out there" doodles. I was very proud of the one that depicted two dementors reproducing. It actually looked like dementors reproducing!

Yeah, I've never understood how I can draw that but I can't draw a simple star. It just doesn't make sense.

As I started getting more inventive with my doodles, I also started getting more detailed. Pretty soon they were no longer doodles but full out drawings. I kind of wanted to steal that one Gryffindor's camera to take pictures of my drawings. Heh. Pictures of my drawings. What if it was drawings of my drawings? Oh, now that's a genius idea!

I was drawing a skull on one of the Hufflepuff boys when he suddenly jerked his arm. I sucked in a breath and looked around nervously. No one was paying any attention to me, despite the fact that I had changed seats three or four times.

I looked back at the Hufflepuff. He hadn't woken up. Good. That meant I could resume drawing. I nudge his left arm closer to me and pouted when I saw that he had messed up my drawing. It now looked like the skull was sticking out his tongue. That wasn't scary at all. How was I supposed to fix it?

I scratched a couple of lines here and there to try and make the sketch look more terrifying. As I did so, I found that it was starting to look familiar. Very familiar.

It wasn't until I was done with the sketch that I realized what I had just drawn. It was strikingly similar to the Dark Mark (a very rough version though). Whoops. I knew some professors wouldn't be too happy with that.

Yes, I know. That's definitely an understatement. They were horrified when nearly all of the Hufflepuff students that had History of Magic with the Slytherins were walking around with inked on Dark Marks. I could see Professor Sprout arguing with Professor Snape at dinner that night. I had never seen her so angry. It was kind of funny. Professor Snape didn't look even remotely afraid of her. He just had that bored look on his face.

I smiled to myself, proud of my handiwork. I could see the smudged Dark Marks on the arms of certain Hufflepuffs who hadn't had time to cover it up. They were always shifting uncomfortably and looking around, hoping that no one had noticed. Judging by the looks they were getting from some very angry Gryffindors, others had definitely noticed. My smile grew even wider.

Professor Snape looked over in my direction. Upon seeing my smile, his eyes narrowed. I faked a look of innocence on my face. That tipped him off. Apparently when I look innocent is when he knows that I've done something. And when I look guilty. And when I look smug. Or happy. Or any emotion whatsoever. He just automatically assumes that I've done something. I know I should feel insulted but…

I just can't. Instead, I feel proud of my accomplishments. After all, no one else can claim that they've single-handedly set the record for having been given the most detentions. And this was in fifth year. I still had two more years to go.

After dinner, Professor Snape came stalking towards me. I don't know why he does it in the middle of the Great Hall. He should just catch me when I pass by his office. It's on the way to the Common Room after all.

"I know you did it," he hissed in my ear. I blinked up at him and smiled widely.

"Did what?" I asked. His eyes narrowed.

"Nice try. Professor Sprout's office tonight."

That was strange. Professor Sprout's office? I didn't know that she oversaw detentions. Or did I not have one?

Professor Snape must have seen the question on my face.

"Don't worry," he assured me. "You most definitely have—"

I finished the sentence for him. I knew the last word well. It was the most common word in my vocabulary.

"Detention."


	13. Rule #12

Rule #12: House elves are not acceptable replacements for Bludgers

Okay, first off, let's get some things straight. One, house elves tend to have round heads. Two, house elves are roughly the same size as a Bludger. Three, when hit with a bat, house elves will fly through the air just like a Bludger will. Therefore, it was a perfectly logical conclusion that house elves could be used as Bludgers.

Okay, maybe I had been grasping at straws but it wasn't like Madam Hooch was going to give me actual Bludgers to practice with. Something about the whole of the student population being at risk, whatever that means. I wasn't going to do anything with them! Honest! I just wanted to practice before Quidditch try-outs. I was never really interested in Quidditch but Mum wanted me to make more friends and that was the best way I knew how. Dad recommended the Beater position because it was a great source of getting rid of excess anger. I don't think he really believes that I'm not angry. Mum and Dad seem to believe the doctor when he says that I'm only acting out to get people to notice that I'm angry, whatever that means.

Yes, I have a doctor. No, he's not a therapist. He's not a psychiatrist or a psychologist. I don't need a therapist or any of those other things. He's just a behavior analyst that considers me to be a project. He doesn't really know anything.

Anyways, back to house elves and Bludgers. I still don't understand what the big problem was. I asked the creatures themselves and they agreed. They agreed to be Bludgers!

Draco Malfoy was right. They really will agree to do anything.

Anyway, I thought it would have been fine. They were doing it willingly and I was doing my best not to aim my hits at anyone else. I was also trying to not hit them extremely hard. It really should have been fine.

Maybe Madam Hooch was mad because I didn't ask her to use the bats…. That seems like something she would be mad about but then why would everyone be making a big fuss about the house elves?

One of the Gryffindors (Granger, I believe. So typical of the girl) called it abuse and mistreatment, whatever that means. I wasn't really paying attention when she started going on about it. She really doesn't know how to be quiet once she starts talking.

Moving on, it was a nice day out, the sun was shining, the birds were singing—oh, wait. That's a different story. But really, it was a nice day out. It wasn't raining like it normally is. No one was on the Quidditch pitch because the season hadn't started and Oliver Wood wasn't around anymore to force his team to practice in the early hours of the morning. Quidditch tryouts were the next week, so I figured I might as well practice while I had the chance. All it took was a quick trip down to the kitchens and I had at least five volunteers. Like I said, the house elves were willing to be my replacement Bludgers. Of course, these were the crazier ones of the bunch but I wasn't complaining. They were helping me out, after all.

Within fifteen minutes, I was on the Quidditch pitch, trailed by five house elves and bat in hand. Yes, I nicked the bat from the broomshed but what was I supposed to do? Ask Madam Hooch and have her question me as to why I wanted only the bat and not the actual balls? That would certainly raise suspicions.

Not that there was anything suspicious about what I had plans to do. It's only suspicious when there's fire or explosions or plants involved.

I tried staying low to the ground, not wanting to hurt the house elves that had volunteered. After all, there was the possibility that I would need their help later on. You never know if there's someone that needs a bit of poison added to their food.

I should probably cross out that last sentence. It's too condemning. But why should I bother? It's not like the people reading this wouldn't immediately suspect me of it anyways. It's always either the Weasley twins or me. Trust me, I mean always. No one even considers the other students and trust me, I know there are other students that pull pranks just to get it blamed on either the Weasley twins or me. It kind of sucks when you're doing detention for something you didn't even come up with…

Back to the story. Where was I? Oh yes—flying low to the ground. I batted the house elves for a while. There were times when I wasn't sure if they were screaming from fright or from excitement. I think it was the latter, though. There was one that was laughing non-stop. Or maybe it was crying? I can never tell. Either way, I hope they were having fun.

The sad thing about this whole story is that I would have never been caught if the Ravenclaw Quidditch team hadn't wanted to practiced and realized there was a bat missing. They could have just gotten a spare out of the broomshed but no! They wanted to know where the original bat was!

Stupid Ravenclaws. Everything would have been fine had they just stayed quiet. Instead, they had to go ask Madam Hooch, who had to go looking around the Quidditch pitch. Of course, a person flying around on a broomstick swinging wildly at round-shaped objects isn't exactly something that you can miss. She spotted me within a second. Actually, make that a fraction of a second. She was yelling at me before she even got onto the Quidditch pitch.

I like to think that I pulled off a daring escape on my broom, but if that had been the case, I wouldn't be writing this. However, the Ravenclaw team would tell a very different story. They would say that I spotted Madam Hooch, screamed like a seven-year-old girl, and promptly fell off my broom ten feet to the ground below.

They're liars. I did not scream like a seven-year-old girl.

I screamed like a thirteen-year-old girl. That's because I was a thirteen-year-old girl at the time. Of course, anyone would scream in that situation. Madam Hooch is scary when she's mad. She screams and she pulls you by your ear all the way to Professor Snape's office.

I don't think I could hear for hours afterward. Although, there was one word that kept ringing in my ear. Yep, we all know it. It's the word that follows me everywhere at Hogwarts.

Detention.


	14. Rule #13

Rule #13: Starting a betting pool on the fate of this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is tasteless and tacky, not a clever money-making concept

Okay, I honestly can't see how this wasn't a rule before. I would have assumed that someone would have come up with an idea this genius. Really, if no Slytherin had come up with it, I would have thought that the Weasley twins would have had the idea. They were always looking for ways of making money, after all.

This was probably one of the easiest things I've come up with. This opportunity was just waiting to be grasped! Like I said, I honestly can't believe how no one came up with this before. I mean, honestly…it was like one of those Muggle neon signs—impossible to miss. With teachers leaving the position every year and with rumors of the DADA position being cursed, it should have been the easiest thing in the world! And from what I hear, when Harry Potter came to Hogwarts, things only got more interesting.

This betting pool was also one of my longest running experiments. The teachers didn't catch on until the third year I did it. Some, including Professor Snape, might have known but since it was the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, he didn't complain. All of us Slytherins were hoping that he would get the position. He was definitely the best suited for it, in our opinion.

The first day of classes during my second year, I started the betting pool. Since it was Professor Lupin, only the Slytherins were in on it. And since only the Slytherins were in on it, it didn't become a widely known thing. Sure there were rumors but I don't think any of the students really paid attention to those rumors. As one Ravenclaw put it, they only paid attention to things regarding me when there was hardcore, visual proof. After all, that was usually when things either got blown up or classes got cancelled. Personally, I think they just couldn't believe that I could be subtle. After all, according to my fellow Slytherins, subtle isn't my middle name.

According to Professor McGonagall, trouble is my middle name—a middle name I share with Harry Potter. A disgusting concept. Trouble isn't my middle name, either. My parents say my middle name is Mischief. Which is really weird, because the middle name on my birth certificate is Piper. Personally, I like the name Jacqueline as a middle name. It sounds sophisticated. I'm a Slytherin. We're supposed to be sophisticated. Therefore, I think Jacqueline is a better fit.

But, middle names aside, the Slytherins really liked my idea of a betting pool. Who knew that Slytherins could be so creative? They had Professor Lupin being killed by goblins, leaving because he had a bad Quidditch accident (even though he didn't play Quidditch), getting his face sucked off by a flobberworm, and getting his legs cut off by an acromantula. Sadly, none of those things happened. Which is stupid, because I would have paid to see any one of those things happen. Pansy Parkinson won the betting pool that year. She was the only one to say that he would get sacked. Unoriginal but that was what happened.

The second year of the betting pool, even more people joined in. I'm pretty sure all of the Slytherins were a part of it, compared to the ten or so the year before. Since it was Professor Moody, we didn't want to be too cruel but some of them still had grudges for what he did to their parents or their aunts or their uncles or their grandparents. So, we had the normal bets and then we had the crazier ones. Someone said that that he would be attacked by a swarm of house-elves. Someone else said that he would be arrested by flying Christmas tins. Others said that a fleet of daleks would attack him. I don't even know what a dalek is! Still, we were at Hogwarts and anything is possible at Hogwarts. We learned that after the whole Chamber of Secrets incident. And then again at the end of my third year. No one even considered that Mad-Eye Moody was really a Death Eater in disguise! That was a huge plot twist!

It also made a lot of sense. After all, the best disguise one can take on is the form of their enemy. Maybe I should try passing as Professor McGonagall one day. Then I could get myself out of all my detentions. Oh! That's a fabulous idea! I just need a tight bun, green robes, and a scary expression. Shouldn't be too hard.

I should have known something would happen during the third year. My first hint should have been that the other houses finally started believing the rumors and wanted to get in on the betting pool. First it was the Hufflepuffs, then it was the Ravenclaws. The Gryffindors were the last to join, because they didn't want to join anything run by Slytherins. Honestly, Gryffindors are always late to the party. When they finally joined, most of the good ideas had been taken. They were left to pick from the scraps—Ministry take-over, pushed into a fire, sacked, and kidnapped by fireflies, for example. Needless to say, a Gryffindor wouldn't have won. I was kind of disappointed that no one won and that I had to give all their money back. I was really looking forward to keeping all that money.

I should have known that the professors would find out. After all, even the bloody Gryffindors knew! That should have been another sign. Of course, Professor McGonagall, being the Gryffindor she is, had to investigate.

It was a Hufflepuff that squealed. She just had to drag one to her office and give a disapproving look. That pink professor should have taken lessons from her. One look would have been much more effective than all of those "Educational Degrees" combined.

Once the Hufflepuff squealed, it all went to the dementors. And when I say that, I mean I mailed the money to the dementors in case I would ever end up in Azkaban. For every galleon I sent, I promised a memory extracted from someone else. I figured they needed a bit of variety in their diet. The same memories over and over must be pretty boring.

Thankfully, I didn't need to cash in on that deal. In fact, I'll deny that I ever made that deal.

The morning after the Hufflepuff squealed, I had Transfiguration. Class hadn't even started before Professor McGonagall was grabbing me by my ear and dragging me into her office.

"Is it true?" she demanded shutting the door.

"Is what true?" I asked. Rule number one—don't ever admit to it unless they already know.

"That you've started a betting pool about the fate of Professor Umbridge?" Darn it. She already knew.

"Define started…" Rule number two. Try to work the phrasing to your advantage.

"You don't mean to tell me that you've done this before." Darn it. She already knew the tactic I was using. That left rule number three—when all else fails, negotiate.

"If you don't tell Professor Snape or assign me detention, I'll give you the best odds." No one can resist my most charming smile.

Professor McGonagall gave me a flat look. Apparently she can resist my most charming smile.

"You'll return the money immediately," she ordered. "This is tacky and tasteless. I can't believe someone from Professor Snape's house would do something like this!"

She went off on a tangent for a couple of minutes about just how tacky and tasteless it was while I tried to get out of this one. Looked like rule number three didn't work. So that left rule number four—wait patiently for the verdict. It wasn't what I was expecting. I was expecting at least a week's worth of detentions. That's normally what the verdict is.

"Stop taking bets," Professor McGonagall ordered. "Give everyone their money back and then bring the list to me. Against my better judgment, I'm bringing the Weasley twins into this. Between you three, I want to see how many off the list you can cross off."

I'm pretty positive my grin was from ear to ear. I was actually being given permission to go crazy? Christmas had come early!

As I was leaving her office, something occurred to me.

"What do I say if Slytherins question me about visiting you later?" I asked. Professor McGonagall's flat look returned. Her look told me the answer should be obvious.

"Just when I had hopes…" she muttered under her breath. "Just tell them you have detention."

Oh right. The answer was obvious.

Detention.


	15. Rule #14

Rule # 14: I will not start every Potions class by asking Professor Snape if today's project is suitable for use as a sexual lubricant.

I still don't understand why I'm getting blamed for this one. I didn't come up with it! It wasn't my idea!

Maybe I should start listening when Mom says not to accept any bets or challenges from my housemates. She's pretty adamant about that. She puts it at the end of every letter and reminds me every time I see her.

I never listen. I pretty much tune her out when she starts to go off on one of her tangents.

Anyway, when I saw this challenge, I couldn't pass it up. This is one of the few cases when I actually wish that I had come up with this idea. Well, maybe not one of the few cases. There are actually many cases.

Back to the story. Near the end of my fourth year, I found a note on my bed with this challenge written on it. Normally I just ignore those notes because most people know that if they want me to take a challenge seriously, they should post it on the common room bulletin board and pray that I read it before Professor Snape rips it down and burns it. Or tears it to shreds. Depends on how dangerous the challenge was and what kind of mood he was in when he walked into the common room. Usually whenever he talked to Potter, he tore it to shreds and then burned it.

Anyway, I made an exception for this challenge. I love to test how far I can go with Professor Snape. It's always fun to watch him crack. I think he enjoys my boldness, too. I'm one of the few students that don't quake in fear whenever they lay eyes on him. Maybe it's because I spend so much time in detention with him. I noticed that near the end of my first year, he didn't seem quite so intimidating. By the end of my second year, it got to the point where I was one of the few who could say that they held regular, normal conversations with the Potions professor. I even know his favorite color!

Where was I? Note on the bed, challenge accepted, testing Professor Snape…Ah, yes. Since this was near the end of my fourth year, I only had a month left to complete this challenge before exams started. I had no detentions to fulfill, so I planned on Professor Snape assigning enough detentions for my antics to take me up to the start of exams. I had learned the previous year that the closer exams were, the more lenient he became during detentions. Normally I would clean one cauldron and spend the rest of the night studying. Or trying to convince Professor Snape to let me grade the first years' essays. He said that after reading one, I would prefer studying. I still don't believe him.

I started the challenge the next day, since we had Potions right away in the morning.

"Today, we will be making the Alihotsy Draught," Professor Snape announced as he swept into the room. "Turn to page two hundred and sixty-three and begin."

I raised my hand. Professor Snape glared at me like he always does.

"Yes?" he asked. I grinned.

"Is today's potion suitable for use as a sexual lubricant?" I asked innocently, widening my eyes and batting my eyelashes to add to the effect. Professor Snape barely batted an eye while the rest of the class either broke out into giggles or gave me horrified looks.

"It causes hysteria," he replied. "So, no. Now get to work and I'll see you in detention later."

Shocker there. I already knew that I was probably going to receive detention.

Two days later, when we had Potions again, a similar thing happened.

"Open your books to page one hundred and forty-eight and begin making the Fire-Protection Potion." Professor Snape grimaced at the unoriginality of the name. Once again, I raised my hand as everyone else opened their books.

"Is this potion suitable for use as a sexual lubricant?" I asked as Professor Snape glared in my direction.

"Read the name and turn to page one hundred and forty-eight," Professor Snape told me. "Make sure to note in your margins that you have detention tonight."

I opened my book and did exactly that. So now, on page one hundred and forty-eight, written at the top in large blocky letters, is the word DETENTION.

The next week, Professor Snape announced that we would be making Doxycide. He seemed to know what I was about to ask when I raised my hand if the defeated look on his face was anything to go by.

"Is this suitable for use as a sexual lubricant?"

"No, now get to work. I'll see you in detention."

I was actually starting to enjoy these detentions. Professor Snape had me writing lines for the first half of the detention, so I got to use my color-changing quill. It was very entertaining.

At the end of the week, I had racked up nearly enough detentions between Potions and my other classes to last me until exams. There was just one more day that needed a detention. Luckily, I had Potions for my first class of the day.

"Invigoration Draught," Professor Snape announced. He waved his wand and the steps appeared on the board behind him. "Write down the instructions, what its use is, and begin working. I want a vial of your attempt by the end of the class."

I raised my hand. Professor Snape gave me a look and I opened my mouth.

"Is it suitable to use as a sexual lubricant?" I asked. I expected a negative answer and the promise of detention.

"Yes, it is. Five points to Slytherin for knowing one of its lesser known uses."

My mouth dropped open. He had to be joking. The rest of the class looked stunned at this revelation as well.

"What?" A Gryffindor asked, disgusted by the blatant favoritism.

"Detention, Mr. Creevey," Professor Snape snapped. "You'll be joining your smart-mouth classmate in detention."

The Potions professor gave me a meaningful look. I blinked.

"So I do have detention?" I asked. Professor Snape sighed.

"Yes, you have detention."


	16. Rule #15

Rule # 15: "Liften Separatis Crotchum" is not a real spell

Okay. Pure misunderstanding! It was just an unfortunate choice of words that I combined together. It's really not my fault. It's not like I planned this one.

You know how it is, don't you? When you're being tested and you need to come up with the answer right away but you can't remember it so you just end up making up random crap and praying it's right.

Yeah, that's what happened with this. I really don't believe I should have gotten detention for this because I just did something any other student would do in my situation. Okay, maybe the word choice was unfortunate but I don't think it should have resulted in a detention.

Le sigh. It was just my luck that Professor McGonagall was overseeing the exams. If it had been any other professor (except for maybe Professor Snape), I would have stood a chance of getting out of a detention. But it was Professor McGonagall and I did get a detention. I should really just get over it. However, I'm still bitter because it honestly was a mistake.

This incident took place during my fourth year exams. I suppose I should consider myself fortunate that this didn't happen during my O.W.L.s. That would have been hard to explain to my mother…

Obviously, since Professor McGonagall was overseeing this exam, it was the Transfiguration portion. I had been doing fine on my exams until Transfiguration. It wasn't like I hadn't studied. I just get really intimidated, especially by Professor McGonagall. Have you seen the woman? Anyone who isn't intimidated by her either has a lot of guts or they're just plain stupid. Or a mixture of the two.

"Now turn a cauldron into a sieve."

That was my exam question. Almost immediately I blanked on the answer. I'm not even sure if I ever actually knew the answer. I certainly don't remember learning that in class.

"Why?" I asked. Professor McGonagall stared at me, as if a student had never questioned her during an exam.

"Because I said so and it's part of your exam," she replied. "Now turn the cauldron into a sieve."

"But why is it part of the exam? No one is ever going to need to turn a cauldron into a sieve. A cauldron is meant to keep things in while a sieve is meant…to be a sieve."

What did a sieve do anyway? I hope that question wasn't going to be on the exam. Otherwise, I would fail it for sure.

Professor McGonagall sighed.

"Because the Ministry of Magic says it needs to be on the exam," she said. "Now do it."

I snorted.

"Do you always do what the Ministry of Magic says? Especially in light of this year with the whole situation with Umbridge?" I asked. Professor McGonagall glowered at me.

"Just do it," she ordered, finally fed up with my questioning. I pulled out my wand and stared at the cauldron, praying the spell would come to mind.

It didn't.

I tapped my wand against the cauldron and cleared my throat. Sparks flew out of my wand.

Oops. I hoped I wouldn't be marked down for that.

I tapped my wand and cleared my throat again. Hopefully I could keep doing that until I remembered the spell.

That wasn't the case. Apparently Professor McGonagall can only take three clearing of the throats before she gets mad.

"Stop putting it off," she barked. "Now turn the cauldron into a sieve."

I went on to my next plan—make something up and pray it works.

I waved my wand in a circular motion and pointed it at the cauldron.

"Liften Separatis Crotchum," I said and closed my eyes, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

Nothing happened. I opened my eyes. Professor McGonagall was staring at the untouched cauldron with a defeated look. She made a note on my paper. It looked suspiciously like a 'T'. I made a mental note to not let my mother see my exam grades. My dad wouldn't care since he failed a few classes himself but my mom would flip.

"That's not a real spell," she informed me, tight-lipped. I tried to look innocent.

"Really? That's the spell in the book," I said. Professor McGonagall gave me a look that said she knew I was lying.

"There is no spell in the world that vulgar," she informed me. I blinked. Vulgar? What was vulgar about what I said?

"What?" I asked.

"Detention," she said.


	17. Rule #16

Rule # 16: I will not claim Chick Tracts are an accurate presentation of Muggle life.

So this story has a funny start to it. I mean, how many stories start with people digging through the trash?

For the record, I wasn't digging through just any old trash bin in the streets. I'm not that crazy. You never know what you might find in those things.

Oh, no, this was a magical trash bin. Yes, it was literally a magical trash bin. My dad had taken me to the Quidditch World Cup and these things were all over the place. They were so cool!

Anyway, I was digging in the trash bin because I had overheard some American wizards grumbling over a packet of paper in their hands. They mentioned something about Muggles, which is what drew my attention. I always like seeing what other wizards and witches think about Muggles, especially those that have never met any Muggles.

So, curious to see what would have Americans so disgusted with Muggles (the pure-blood families like to say that Americans love Muggles more than Professor Dumbledore, which I didn't know was possible!), I started trailing after them and digging in the neat trash bins when they finally threw the packet of paper away.

At first I didn't get it. It was just a packet of paper with some doodles and words on it. Of course, I didn't really pay attention to the words. Why would I read when there were pretty pictures?

Okay, maybe not pretty pictures but pictures were pictures and pictures are more attracting than words. Ask anybody!

Of course, once I understood that nothing would make sense about the drawings if I didn't read the words, I forced myself to read it. It was really, really, really boring. It was all about this church stuff and Satan and how the only way is God and Jesus. Why would anyone read something like that for fun? Oh, well. It would be a good thing to bring to show and tell in my Muggle Studies class.

Yes, show and tell. I loved it in primary school because I would always bring things from the wizarding world and try and creep out the Muggle kids with it. The best reaction I ever got was when I brought a jar of newt spleens to class and pretended to eat them. Surprisingly, they tasted really good. My teacher thought it was disgusting though. She even threw up, which made a bunch of other kids throw up, which made even more kids throw up. In the end, I was the only kid in that classroom who didn't vomit. It wasn't a pretty sight but it got us out of class early. That was always a bonus.

So, I saved the packet of paper (which was called a tract, though I don't really understand why. I would have just called it a mini-picture book and left it at that. In fact, that's what I'm going to start calling it now—the mini-picture book). I had plans to bring it to show and tell, but as I looked around the Quidditch World Cup stadium, I wondered how easy it would be to convince other witches and wizards that this was how Muggles lived their lives. I was pretty sure it wouldn't be that hard. After all, there was a wizard wearing a woman's nightgown. If he honestly believed that Muggles wore that in public, then he would believe almost anything, especially if I claimed to be an expert on Muggles.

Okay, so I may or may not have experimented with it before I took it to school. I convinced my dad to copy the mini-picture book and started handing out copies. I must have handed out nearly fifty of them and that was just in one hour!

You know, you would have thought Professor Burbage would have been impressed by the initiative I took. I took the time to experiment beforehand, help my father make all the copies of the mini-picture books, and somehow managed to fit all the copies in my trunk. Yes, I may have left some other books behind, like my Transfiguration textbook. And my Charms textbook. And my Potions textbook.

Okay, I left all my textbooks behind. But it wasn't on purpose. They were just on top, so they were easier to pull out of my trunk.

Anyway, Professor Burbage didn't look too thrilled when she saw the stack of the mini-picture books on my desk. Her face paled when she saw the author.

"Where did you get these?" she asked. I shrugged.

"A trash bin," I admitted. No point in lying. Professor Burbage cringed.

"And why were you looking in a trash bin?" she asked. I shrugged.

"Because I was curious."

Professor Burbage sighed.

"Put those away. I won't have that trash in my room," she ordered. I winced. Harsh. Of course, I wasn't willing to give up until I showed them to the rest of the class. So, I did the only thing I could—I passed them out at lunch. The Ravenclaws were intrigued—one tried to explain a tract to me but I'm still calling it a mini-picture book. The Hufflepuffs were interested and grateful when I told them that it would help them pass Muggle Studies. The Gryffindors didn't know what to think of the mini-picture books. Some looked interested but were hesitant when that Granger girl called it "garbage" and "filled with lies". I didn't try to offer them to any Slytherins. I'm not sure that there were even any Slytherins taking Muggle Studies—besides me, of course.

Professor Burbage wasn't pleased when she saw the entire class reading them the next day. She immediately looked in my direction and scowled. It wasn't very intimidating but I knew what that look meant. I had seen it too many times.

"You handed these out?" she asked. I nodded. Her scowl grew.

"Didn't I say I wouldn't have this garbage in my room?" she asked.

"But it's technically not garbage," I protested. "Only the original was garbage and I left that at home." Professor Burbage did not look pleased by my response. She summoned all the copies in the room to her desk and locked them in her desk drawer. She wrote something on a pink slip of paper (an idea she got from American high schools, apparently) and sent it zooming in my direction. As it landed in front of me, she began to lecture on Muggles and their complex views of religion. I didn't pay attention—I never do. Instead, I traced the word on the pink slip of paper over and over.

DETENTION.


	18. Rule #17

Rule #17: Seamus Finnigan is not "after me Lucky Charms"

Oh, American cereal. It's one of the few things I'm glad Americans created. I love it, especially the kind with marshmallows. They're magically delicious!

Unfortunately, Hogwarts doesn't have cereal. I don't know why. I mean, it's not that hard to find. Just go into a Muggle supermarket and it's right there. I think the house-elves just like to make everything from scratch.

Oh, wait. I just realized something. You can only find cereal in Muggle supermarkets. House-elves can't exactly go shopping in Muggle supermarkets. They're too odd-looking. I mean, wouldn't you notice something that short?

So, yeah, it's kind of a weird situation. Every morning during the summer and holidays, I eat cereal. Every morning at school, I'll have whatever I can grab at the table. Often that includes some odd combinations, such as eggs and syrup or toast and ketchup. It's not as disgusting as it sounds! I promise. It's actually very delicious.

But, despite how delicious such things are, I always had a craving for my marshmallow filled cereals. Just thinking of them would make my mouth water—or foam, in some instances. That created some awkward moments. The first time my mouth foamed, I made a Hufflepuff pee their pants. The second time it happened, it was nearly impossible to convince Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey that I was, in fact, not rabid. I'm still sort of insulted that they would believe something as crazy like that! Am I really the sort of person that could have rabies?

Actually, don't answer that. Please, please, please don't answer that.

My cravings were especially bad in the spring of my first year at Hogwarts. By that time, it had been months since I had last had a bite of any cereal, let alone my magically delicious marshmallows.

So I did the only thing I could. I went crying to Professor Snape.

Let me just say, he really didn't appreciate being woken up at two in the morning just to hear about my cereal cravings. I ended up with a week's worth of detentions just for that alone but it still didn't fix my cereal cravings. However, Professor Snape did offer some advice—though it was like pulling teeth to get it. I only got it as he was hauling me back to the Slytherin common room.

"Just write to your parents and ask them to send you some, you daft girl."

So I did exactly that. And a week later, I got my cereals. That was the best present I had received since Christmas. It wasn't just one box either. My dad sent along five owls, each carrying two boxes. That made ten whole boxes!

I don't think some of the seventh year Slytherins were very happy by how loud I was squealing that morning. I'm positive I gave at least three of them a migraine.

Naturally, my screaming and squealing drew the attention of the other tables, too. A lot of the students that came from all-wizarding families were confused. They had no clue what I was surrounded by. The Muggleborns and some of the students that had at least one Muggle parent saw the boxes, shook their heads and rolled their eyes, and looked away.

Well, all of them except for one. Naturally, it was a Gryffindor. Of course, would it be anyone other than a Gryffindor?

"Are those Lucky Charms?"

I hadn't seen him approach but I could recognize that voice anywhere. Even those who didn't actually know him knew his voice. Seamus Finnigan was loud (like all Gryffindors), he had a tendency to blow things up (like the Weasley twins, Longbottom, and me), and he had a very distinctive voice.

My reaction to his approach wasn't very pretty, I'll admit. But I only did what anyone else would do when a very loud person surprised them from behind—I fell out of my seat and promptly began hissing and kicking.

And foaming at the mouth. At the end of this whole scene, Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey dragged me back to the hospital wing to make sure, for a second time, that I didn't have rabies.

But back to the original story.

As I was kicking and foaming at the mouth on the floor, Seamus Finnigan reached over and grabbed one of my Lucky Charms boxes. My reaction was instinctive.

I rolled into a sitting position, grabbed his legs, and tried to bring him to the ground. Seamus Finnigan staggered away and tried to kick me off, which was nearly impossible seeing as I had a pretty good grip on his legs. So what ended up happening was that he dragged me back to the Gryffindor table.

Midway to the table, I realized that he wasn't going to fall anytime soon so I used the next weapon in my arsenal—my teeth.

That's right. I bit him. Over and over and over. I even drew blood.

Of course, there's a downfall to this whole thing taking place in the middle of the Great Hall. There were teachers all over the place. As soon as I started biting, the professors were all over the place, trying to "contain the situation". It took Professor Sprout and Professor Snape to pull me off of a traumatized Seamus Finnigan.

"What possessed you to do something like this?" Professor McGonagall was not happy, to say the least.

"He was after me Lucky Charms!" I cried. "Didn't you see him? He was after me Lucky Charms!"

The professors traded looks above my head.

"You still don't attack fellow students," Professor McGonagall admonished.

"But he was after me Lucky Charms," I whined. "You don't just do that. Besides, you're supposed to keep leprechauns away from Lucky Charms. Everyone knows that!"

I could hear the snickers from the Slytherin table. That nickname would stick for the rest of Seamus Finnigan's time at Hogwarts. Even years later, he would be known as the leprechaun.

Professor McGonagall sighed. She obviously realized that she wouldn't get anything else out of me. Smart woman.

"Detention," she ordered.


	19. Rules #18 and #19

Rule #18: I will not refer to the Weasley twins as "bookends"

Rule #19: I will not refer to the Patil twins as "bookends"

So, it's my belief in life that everyone should get a nickname. After all, nicknames identify people. Nicknames help distinguish one William from the next William and Mary One from Mary Two.

They don't even have to be good nicknames! Every person just needs to have a nickname! I have plenty of nicknames—F, That Troublesome Girl, Trouble, Hell, Female Version of the Weasley Twins—the list just goes on and on!

Also, people don't even need to have different nicknames. They can have the same nickname as someone else. They just need to have a nickname!

Yes, I believe very strongly in this. This may even be one of the strongest things I believe in life. It's not that hard to manage, after all. And believe me, when you meet someone called Anaztajia Mortimer-Dmitrius, it's easier to come up with a nickname (I ended up calling her Taj, like the Taj Mahal).

So, that's where this whole thing started. Since it looked like no one else was going to anytime soon (within the next century, I mean), I decided to assign everyone in Hogwarts a nickname. It wasn't too hard. I mean, by my third year I pretty much knew everyone. Yeah, I get around. By the end of first year, almost every teacher had given me at least one detention. The only exception was Professor Trelawney and I think that's because she doesn't even know what the word detention means. I sort of wish I had taken Divination. That would have been the easiest class ever.

What do you see in your tealeaves? Detention.

What do you see in the glass ball? Detention.

What do you see in your dreams? Detention.

What do the stars predict for your week? Detention every single night.

Like I said, it would have been the easiest class ever.

So, by third year, I started assigning everyone I came across a nickname. Even the ghosts and the pictures and the suits of armor. I enjoyed nicknaming the suits of armor the most. There was Dusty and Shiny and Silver and Rusty and Helmet and Tall and Sword and Spear and that's just the start. It would take me at least an hour to list off all the nicknames for all the suits of armor. I made sure to start at the bottom of Hogwarts and work my way up the levels, making sure that I didn't miss any suits of armors. After all, it was just be mean to name most of them but leave out a few. That's just pure ostracization.

I decided to give all the inanimate objects nicknames first. It was easier that way to make sure I hadn't missed anything or anyone. After that was done, I decided to nickname the teachers because…well, you know. There's a lot less teachers than there are students.

Yes, in case you're wondering, this is how Professor McGonagall got nicknamed "El Gato" and how Professor Moody became nicknamed "Crazy Daddy." This is also how Professor Sprout got nicknamed "Sprouticus" and how Professor Snape gained the nickname "Cauldron of Doom". Professor Dumbledore became "Dumbo" and Professor Flitwick became "Flick My Wick" and Professor Binns became "Bilbo Bagbins". Hagrid became "Rub My Haggis" and Trelawney was "Tree Frog". Madam Pince became "Crazy Cat Lady" and Madam Pomfrey is "Pom-Poms" and Madam Hooch is "Hoochy-Cootchy".

Yeah, I had fun with the teachers. After the teachers I decided to tackle the ghosts and the house-elves. Those were hard. For the record, ghosts are stubborn about keeping the names they have and house-elves are all too happy to change their nicknames to a permanent name. That was the closest I had ever come to giving up on something in my life. Honestly…

After nicknaming all of the Slytherins, I realized that it would be too much work to go and give every student a permanent nickname and actually remember those nicknames. Therefore, I decided to just call them by the first thing I thought of when I passed them in the hallways.

"Hey Baloney, hey Salami," I greeted Malfoy's cronies. Those nicknames actually stuck for a while since every single time I saw them they were eating some sort of food—mainly of the sandwich or sweet variety.

They didn't even glance at me. They were too busy fawning after Malfoy.

"Hey Flower, hey Millions." That was Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode.

"Hey Period, hey Medusa, hey Draco's Secret Lover, hey Huffindor." That was the "Golden Trio" (That was not my nickname. I would never come up with something as dull as that for a nickname. I mean, come on. Have you met me?)

Thinking back, it was probably a bad idea to call them by those nicknames in front of the professors. For some reason, just hearing those nicknames made the professors think I was up to something. Me? Up to something?

Yeah, I normally am. Still, they shouldn't just make assumptions! We all know that making assumptions "makes an ass out of u and me" or however that saying goes. Even Muggles know enough about assumptions to come up with sayings!

"Hi Bookends!" That was the Patil twins. They didn't say anything. They just gave me an offended, haughty look before walking away. Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall overheard me calling them bookends. Needless to say she wasn't too happy.

"Miss -!" (I'm still bleeping out my last name. That's still on need-to-know basis and you don't need to know. Why? You just don't).

I sighed.

"What?" I asked, turning around to face Professor McGonagall.

"What did you just call those girls?"

I gave her a strange look.

"Bookends."

"Why?"

I shrugged.

"Why not?"

"Did you ask those girls if they wanted to be called bookends?"

"No?"

I really wasn't liking where this conversation was heading.

"Then why did you call them bookends?"

"Because they needed a nickname."

Professor McGonagall didn't look happy by my response. Then again, she normally never is happy with any of my responses. Even when I'm answering a question in class.

I still maintain that beetles can be turned into buttons because they both start with a 'b'.

Professor McGonagall sighed.

"Detention. My office, tonight," she ordered. I gaped at her.

"What? Why?"

"Because you need to start showing respect to your fellow students."

How was me giving the Patil twins nicknames not showing respect? I was so confused at this point.

"And if I ever hear you calling someone 'bookends' again, I'll double the detention."

I rolled my eyes and walked away. On my way down the hall I passed the Weasley twins.

"Hey bookends," I greeted them. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I instantly regretted it. My head fell forward because I knew Professor McGonagall had overheard. She was only a meter away, after all.

"Double detention!"


	20. Rule #20

Rule #20: I will not refer to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher as Kenny, even if he is wearing an orange anorak.

It was Lockhart. That's all I have to say.

Well, not really. I always have something more to say. I'm the type of person that can't stop talking, even after people have told me to shut it…multiple times. Even placing duct tape over my mouth doesn't work. I just talk around it. My dad once said that he doesn't believe even silencing spells will get me to shut up.

Anyway, back to Lockhart and the orange anorak. It was one of the most hilarious sights I've ever seen. I always loved that he was so gullible. That's what made this plan work so well.

And of course, since it was Lockhart, detention didn't suck as much as it normally did. Professor Snape made me write lines. Normally it's a hundred lines or two hundred but that time I had to write a grand total of two lines. TWO LINES. I still remember that those two lines.

I will not fool teachers, even if it results in everyone being highly amused. I will not refer to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher as Kenny, even if he is wearing an orange anorak.

That last sentence sound familiar? I would hope so. I still can't believe that Professor Snape knew to call it an anorak, though. He was one of the few people at Hogwarts that actually understood that reference.

Who knew Professor Snape knew about South Park? I certainly didn't. I didn't even see that coming.

So, I should probably start my story now. It's a pretty short story. Then again, it's Lockhart. It doesn't need to be long. That man basically makes fun of himself without even trying.

One day, after class, I approached Lockhart. All of the Slytherins in my year looked like I was crazy. Yes, we were only first years but it didn't take long for most of the students to learn to hate him.

Unless you were a teenage girl going through puberty. However, I had a few years before that happened to me.

"Professor Lockhart, I was just wondering something."

He glanced up at me and paled slightly. Maybe it was because I had accidentally set his hair on fire. Accidentally.

"What?" His smile was blinding.

"Have you ever considered wearing an orange anorak? It's the latest trend right now and I'm kind of disappointed that a person as famous as you isn't keeping up with the latest trends."

Lockhart seemed put off at that thought.

"An orange anorak, you say? What's an anorak? And does it have to be orange? You should know by now that my favorite color is lilac."

I'm very glad that the man was too clueless to tell the difference between a smile of innocence and a grin of pure evil. If he had been able to tell the difference, I would have been screwed.

"It's sort of like a parka," I replied. "And yes, it has to be orange. In fact, I think they only make them in the color orange. I'll send my owl with one."

With that, I left the classroom. Everyone remaining in the classroom stared after me in pure confusion. Me? Giving fashion advice?

That should have been another warning that I was up to no good. I was a first year and I had horrible fashion sense. Believe me, first years should not be giving out fashion advice. They can barely dress themselves.

Maybe that was why Hogwarts had uniforms…The teachers probably got sick of seeing the horrible fashion choices that the students were making and decided it was best that we all dressed the same. A good choice on their part, I'll admit.

I had the orange anorak laid out on my bed. After classes, I just had to run it up to the owlery and send it off with a school owl. Yes, I could have brought it straight to Lockhart or left it in his office but…it's Lockhart. I didn't want to deal with him anymore than I already had to.

The next day, Lockhart was wearing a bright orange anorak to breakfast. It was a blinding sight, especially because he was sitting next to Professor Snape. It was like Halloween!

That was one of the few days I was happy to have Defense Against the Dark Arts. That was definitely an amusing class from start to finish. After all, how could it be anything but amusing when my first words were,

"Hi Kenny!"

Lockhart looked confused and looked around the classroom, trying to figure out who I was talking to. He never once considered that I was talking to him, despite the fact that there was no one named Kenny in our class. In fact, I don't think there was anyone named Kenny at Hogwarts that year. I certainly don't remember meeting any.

"Hi Kenny!" I repeated, waving at Lockhart. He still looked confused. I sighed and sat down. That just proved he was an idiot to me.

I called him Kenny for the entire class period. I don't think he ever caught on. Every time I called him Kenny, he would look around the classroom to see whom I was talking to. At the end, I guess he sort of just assumed that this Kenny person was a figment of my imagination. I don't really blame him. A lot of people think that.

I would have never gotten caught had it not been for when class let out. It just so happened to coincide for when Professor Snape was passing by the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He has an uncanny ability to be in the right place at the right time to get me into trouble.

The class had been let out and the students were filing out of the classroom. As I left, I couldn't resist it. I had to say it, just one more time.

"Bye Kenny! Glad to see you're enjoying the anorak I gave you!"

As soon as I turned my head and spotted Professor Snape, I knew I was in trouble. The word came out of his mouth almost immediately.

"Detention!"


	21. Rule #21

Rule #21: There is no such thing as a were-thylacine

I never understood why there are only werewolves. I mean, wolves aren't the only creatures around. They aren't the largest, or the most vicious, or the prettiest, or the ugliest, or…you get my point. Wolves are just large, strange-looking dogs. So why do werewolves exist and not were-tigers or were-pandas or were-penguins or were-dinosaurs or were-thylacines?

I think it would be an amazing world if were-thylacines existed. Have you ever seen a thylacine? Those animals had style, I tell you. There's no other way to describe them.

I still believe that technically these creatures could exist. After all, everyone calls them Tasmanian wolves. Tasmanian wolves, werewolves…you see my point?

Yes, I know they aren't actually wolves but that's another thing I've never understood. Why would you call a thylacine a wolf if they weren't a wolf? It's like the red pandas. New flash—they aren't actually pandas! They're related to skunks and raccoons and weasels.

In case you're wondering, I used to want to study zoology or animal husbandry. For the record, I was young and thought that it would be the coolest thing in the world to marry animals. Of course, that was before I learned about ghosts and poltergeists. Then I wanted to become a poltergeist. I would have made a good poltergeist. The thought horrified my mother. Still not sure why…

So, yeah…If I remember correctly, this incident took place during my second year, when Professor Lupin was the teacher. It was during his time of the month, so Professor Snape was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts that day. I'm pretty sure that it was his time of the month, too. Then again, it always seems like it's his time of the month. Especially when he's been teaching the Gryffindors...

Yeah, it's not pretty.

"Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four," Professor Snape said coolly as he glided into the classroom. Us Slytherins did as we were told, naturally. The Gryffindors had to argue and ask questions, though, setting everything back. Stupid Gryffindors. They should know that wasting time only makes things worse. Even I learned that lesson after the first week…err, month…err, whenever my thirty-fourth detention was. I can't exactly remember the exact date. There wasn't a grand reason for that detention. Professor McGonagall just didn't appreciate it when I burst into her classroom screaming, "This is Sparta!" at the top of my lungs.

I immediately knew I was going to like this particular class when I realized what we were studying. After all, how can you not like learning about werewolves? They're so fluffy but at the same time, they're so adorable.

Of course, everyone says that I should keep my opinions to myself. They started saying that after I said I also thought Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts were adorable. I'm still mad that my dad refused to let me adopt one…

Anyways, like an obedient Slytherin, I opened my book to page three hundred and ninety-four and started grinning like crazy when I found out we were going to be learning about werewolves, despite it not even being in our curriculum. I just love classes like that! The students sitting around me shivered in horror. They knew that nothing could ever come from me grinning that crazily.

Mid-way through the lecture, I raised my hand. Professor Snape tried to ignore me but it's nearly impossible to do that once I start bouncing in my seat. You see, teachers can ignore a student quietly bouncing in their seat but I put a whoopee cushion under my seat. Therefore, when I bounce, I make a lot of noise. It actually works out pretty well for me. After a few minutes, the teachers get disgusted by the sound of fake flatulence and finally decide to call on me, for the sanity of everyone in the classroom.

"What?" Professor Snape demanded.

"We haven't talked about the different species of werewolves," I pointed out. Professor Snape sighed and muttered something about idiotic students. Normally I would have been offended but I really wanted my question answered.

"There aren't different species of werewolves," he said. "Now—"

My hand waving in the air and my butt bouncing in my seat cut him off.

"Of course there are," I said, once he glared in my direction. "There's different species of wolves, after all. It only makes sense that there are different species of werewolves."

"There aren't different species of werewolves," Professor Snape repeated firmly. "Now—"

"Then how do you explain why werewolves look so different?" I asked. "And why Muggles have so many different myths about them? There has to be different species of werewolves."

"There isn't. Stop interrupting," Professor Snape growled.

"Yes, there are. I can mention a few different species."

"If you're talking about that nonsense published in the Quibbler…"

"What's the Quibbler?"

Professor Snape sighed and tried moving on. Of course, I didn't want to let it go. Bad idea…I should have learned by now that when someone gets into an argument with Severus Snape, that they will always lose.

Always.

"So, what are the different species of werewolves?"

"There are no species of werewolves."

"Sure there are."

"No, there isn't."

"Then how do you explain were-thylacines?"

Professor Snape stared at me as if he couldn't believe this conversation was actually happening. The other students in the class were doing their best not to laugh and get on the wrong side of Professor Snape.

"First of all, the name Tasmanian Wolf for a thylacine is only a colloquial name. Second, thylacines are marsupials, which means that they aren't related to wolves in any way. Third, were-thylacines don't exist."

"Of course they do! They're not fictional animals like flobberworms or mermaids!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a couple students crack up while others hit their heads against their desks. Professor Snape took a deep breath.

"Were-thylacines don't exist."

"I'll prove it!" I announced. "I'll go to Australia and prove it! I'll become a were-thylacine!"

Professor Snape stared at me in disbelief.

"Good luck with that," he replied dryly. "Seeing as it's impossible for you to become one as they don't exist."

"Then I'll become the first one!"

"Thylacines are extinct," Snape pointed out. "You can't."

I huffed angrily and stood up.

"Stop ruining my life! I want to become a were-thylacine!"

I prepared to leave the room but Professor Snape stopped me.

"If you leave this room with plans to go to Australia and dig up a grave of a thylacine to do something ridiculous with Muggle science in hopes of becoming a non-existent creature, you'll have detention for the next month."

How did he know me so well?

Of course, that wasn't going to stop me. I stormed out of the room.

Six days later, when I was hauled back to Hogwarts from Australia after a brief stint in jail for grave robbing, there was a note on my pillow.

Detention. ~S. Snape


	22. Rule #22

Rule #22: I will not provide Luna Lovegood with Coast-to-Coast AM transcripts

Luna Lovegood is one of the few people in this world that understands me. And when I say that she understands me, I mean that she's not terrified of me and doesn't run from the room screaming whenever I smile.

She's also amazingly explosion-proof.

So, like any friend, I decided that she was worthy enough of a Christmas present. She was lucky that year. I only give out four Christmas presents a year and two of those always go to my parents. The third goes to my owl because I have to keep him happy so he'll keep taking letters to my father, asking him to bail me out of jail or to get me out of a dangerous situation.

Like when I accidentally gave my owl Oreos with toothpaste inside instead of cream. Rory definitely wasn't happy and he had talons to prove it.

Oh, I should probably mention that my owl's name is Rory and his favorite treat is Oreos.

Once I have figured out what I'm doing for my first three presents, I always have to figure out whom to give my fourth present to. It's harder than it looks! Lots of people are worthy of my presents but no one can get presents two years in a row. Otherwise Professor Snape would have totally gotten another pet bat.

I went through a few more options but those were no good. I was angry with Professor McGonagall for taking away my sonic screwdriver and the Weasley twins were out because there were two of them and I only had one present to give away. Beside, they had blamed something on me the week before and I was still giving them the silent treatment. I do not appreciate being blamed for letting nifflers into the castle.

So Luna was my only option. Now the big question was what do you get a girl that quirky and awesome? I mean, she's not the type of person to appreciate a subscription to the Quibbler or a necklace made out of onions. Plus, you can get those anywhere in Britain. She deserved something from outside the country.

It's amazing what sort of things you can find on the radio. Like Coast to Coast AM. A whole radio station devoted to things like UFOs and conspiracy theories and paranormal activities. It's amazing! Of course it's a Muggle radio station but that's okay. It allows for some good laughs. After all, it's always amusing listening to people describing encounters with ghosts or poltergeists or Bigfoot. They're usually so wrong. I feel bad for the magical creatures across the Pond. American Muggles are so dense. They can't even tell the difference between Bigfoot and a yeti. That's first year stuff.

Christmas time came around and I handed out presents. My parents got their normal presents—a box of sweets from Hogsmeade and a note promising to be on my best behavior—and Rory got his Oreos, this time without the toothpaste filling. See! I can learn! People can no longer say that I'm hopeless. Luna, of course, got her Coast to Coast AM subscription. She gave me some Nargle-proof perfume. I still have it. I love wearing it on blind dates. My dates must always be full of Nargles, though. They run away as soon as they come close enough to smell me.

When classes began again after Christmas, I guess Luna enjoyed my Christmas present because every time I saw her, she had an enchanted radio as a purse with Coast to Coast broadcasting from it.

"Faye!" she called me over one time after Madam Pince had kicked us out of the library for being too loud and disruptive. "We should share this information with the rest of the castle. They need to know about the President!"

"The President?" I asked.

"The President! He's really a werewolf!" My eyes widened. That was big news. Of course we needed to share that with the rest of the castle.

"How are we going to tell the others, though?" I asked. Luna shrugged.

"That's why I asked you. You normally know how to do those things."

No, I don't. I just pretend I do and make stuff up as I go. The majority of time, it goes badly and things blow up. That's how I learned that Luna was explosion-proof.

Then there's the few times that what I do actually works and no one can believe that nothing got blown up.

"So, what do we do?" Luna asked. I shrugged.

"You're the Ravenclaw," I pointed out. "You know all the spells."

"But you're the Slytherin and can manipulate everything."

Shoot. She had me there.

I started tapping my wand on the radio and muttering words under my breath. If the radio ended up blowing up, I would just buy Luna a new one. I'm used to replacing her radios. The shop owner knows me well.

"Sonorous!" I cried in frustration when nothing worked. To my great surprise, the radio volume magnified until it was echoing down the halls of the castle. I jumped. I'm kind of amazed that I didn't go deaf at that moment. It was loud!

Students and teachers immediately began poking their heads out of their classrooms. The professors did not look happy. I immediately began running, dragging Luna around behind me. Everywhere we went, Coast to Coast AM followed behind us.

The one good thing about all my escapades is that they provided me with plenty of stamina. That's probably the only reason why I was able to run about the entire castle dragging a girl my size and a large radio purse behind me for a good twenty to thirty minutes. We even managed to avoid the barricades the professors set up!

Until I tripped over Mrs. Norris. Stupid cat. Always getting in my way. She was particularly grumpy that day and tripped me right in front of a set of stairs. Evil cat. I went flying down the stairs, landing on the cold stone face-first. Luna stumbled down the stairs after me, giggling slightly. The radio purse slipped off her shoulder and bounced down the stairs to land in front of Filch.

I cringed as I noticed it was steaming. Steaming devices are never a good side. Filch opened his mouth to speak but before anything could come out of his mouth, the radio exploded.

BANG!

The explosion echoed throughout the entire castle. A few ceiling stones fell, including one that almost squashed Mrs. Norris. She hissed and jumped out of the way, unsheathing her claws as she did so. Unfortunately, she landed on my head.

I think my screams caused even more stones to fall.

"Detention!"


	23. Rule #23

Rule #23: I will not bring a Magic Eight Ball to Divination class

Yes, I know earlier that I said that I didn't have Divination as one of my classes. That doesn't mean I never skipped the classes that I did have and go to Divination instead. I'm lazy! It's hard pretending that I understand everything that's going on in class and that I have the homework done even when I had no idea that homework had even been assigned!

Divination is basically the class I go to when I don't want to go to any other class. I started doing so my first year, when Lockhart failed as a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He never noticed I was gone and Professor Trelawney never realized that I actually wasn't one of her students. It worked out quite nicely. I wish it had worked out that nicely for Transfiguration. Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall believes in something called "role call".

Over the summer, one of my younger cousins had given me a Magic Eight Ball because they knew I "liked magic." I squealed at the time. It was so adorable. My father laughed his ass off on the other side of the room because he found it hilarious that my Muggle cousin was giving me something to help with my "magic." My cousin didn't even know that I was a witch at the time!

I guess we should have taken that as a sign that we were close to breaking the Statue of Secrecy but my father and I have never really cared about that. Rules are meant to be broken, after all.

Over the summer I played with my Magic Eight Ball and used it to make all my important decisions. I drove my mother practically to the point of insanity because I refused to go anywhere without it. She was furious when I went through the grocery store one item at a time and asked the Ball if we should buy that particular item. Funnily enough, I've never had to go grocery shopping since then.

I loved my Magic Eight Ball. It was so easily transportable and it saved me from making decisions on my own. I hate making decisions, so it was probably one of the best presents I had ever received. It was also one of the few Muggle inventions that I could take to Hogwarts without it exploding once we got onto castle grounds.

My fourth year at Hogwarts, I started skipping class early. I skipped my normal classes—Defense Against the Dark Arts, Muggle Studies, and History of Magic. I skipped all three of those classes on the very first week!

I would have gotten away with it but that was the year Umbridge was around. She started doing all of those inspections…I should have known I was going to get caught. Seven times out of ten, I get caught. They're not very pretty statistics.

Of course, the day Umbridge did her inspections of the Divination classes happened to be the day that I brought my Magic Eight Ball to class.

"Hi, Professor Trelawney!" I greeted the woman. She barely glanced at me. The sixth years in the class saw me and rolled their eyes. I never understood why they never reported me to the professors but I'm sure they kept quiet because I kept things interesting for them. The older students liked to consider me as some sort of pet. I didn't mind. After all, they gave me treats.

"What are we learning today?" I asked as I sat down.

"The art of crystal ball reading," Professor Trelawney said mystically. I sighed dramatically and pulled the Magic Eight Ball out of my pocket.

"Hold on. I need to check if it's a good day to learn this," I told her. I stared at the ball.

"Can I learn how to read crystal balls today?" I asked the black object and shook it. The bubbles faded and gave me my answer.

Yes.

"Okay! I can learn," I announced and made myself comfortable. I didn't stay comfortable for long, though. Within minutes, Umbridge had joined the class. When I saw her I wanted to sneak out of the classroom and just go hide in the Restricted Section of the library but there was no way to leave the classroom without her noticing.

Unless I jumped out of the window. Thinking back, that probably would have been my best option.

After class began and Professor Trelawney finished her lecture, she began walking around the classroom, asking questions of what we were seeing in the crystal ball. Eventually it was my turn.

"My dear, what do you see?" she asked.

"Hang on, I need to consult my Magic Eight Ball," I replied and shook the ball. As I shook it, I asked the question, "Can I answer Professor Trelawney's questions?"

The answer was "Without a doubt".

I stared into the crystal ball.

"I see—hold on!" I consulted the Magic Eight Ball again. "Do I see a dark room?"

Most likely.

"Okay, I see a dark room. Inside the dark room—wait!" I shook the ball again. "Do I see a bat?"

Reply hazy, try again.

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I told Professor Trelawney. "It can be stubborn at times." I shook the ball again. This time I received a different answer.

Very doubtful.

"Okay, so there's no bat. However, I—give me a minute!—Do I see a toad?" I asked, shaking the fortune-telling device.

Signs point to yes.

I gazed into the crystal ball again.

"Okay, I see a dark room with a toad in it. Hang on, I think—let me ask—Is the room becoming pink?"

The eight ball answered.

As I see it, yes.

"How can it see anything?" I muttered but didn't think twice on it. I never had the chance. At that time, Umbridge guessed that something was up by the laughter of the sixth years.

"Hem hem."

I jumped in the air and turned to her, heart on my chest.

"Oi! Don't sneak up on people!" I warned her. "I almost jumped out a window because you scared me so!"

Umbridge stared down at me.

"According to my notes, this is sixth year Divination. Please tell me why you, a fourth year, are in a sixth year class."

I shrugged.

"Because I'm really, really smart?" I guessed. The pink toad didn't look amused.

"Because I got lost?" I tried again. She still didn't look convinced. I sighed heavily.

Professor Binns doesn't care if we show up or not?" I said. "That's all you're getting out of me."

"Get to class," Umbridge ordered. "And I'll see you tonight in—" I finished the sentence for her. I had seen it coming in my crystal ball, after all. A dark room becoming pink and a toad? It was impossible for the signs to be any clearer.

"Detention."


	24. Rule #24

Rule #24: I will not place anything by Silver RavenWolf on the library shelves

You would think that if you put a bunch of books on a library shelf, that no one would notice. You would think! If it was anyone else, I doubt that anyone would notice except for Madam Pince.

Madam Pince would notice because she's intense like that. I'm pretty sure she knows every book in the library and where they go. The only question is how? Just how? How does she know?

I just want to know how she knows and I know that she knows that I want to know how she knows.

You know?

Anyway, the same summer I received my Magic Eight Ball, my relatives also gave me a set of books by Silver RavenWolf because they, like my cousin, thought I was obsessed with magic.

If only they knew.

If only they knew about the wands or Hogwarts or the almost daily explosions.

We'd never have to go to a family reunion again. Oh, wouldn't that be grand. I have no problems with my relatives but my grandparents on my mother's side…yeah, let's just say that we're not on speaking turns. Not since my mother married my father. If you thought purebloods were stuck up and fussy about whom should marry who, just go and meet my grandparents. You'll never complain again.

It didn't take me long to read all seventeen books. It was summer and I wasn't allowed to use magic with my relatives in the house. I had nothing else to do.

Well, there may have been an explosion here and there but I maintain that they were all natural!

The books were actually quite entertaining. Muggles that are wanna-be wizards or witches are so funny.

I brought the books back with me to Hogwarts but I soon realized that I didn't have any room to store them. There was no spare room between my trunk, the bookshelf I had installed next to my bed, or in the bathroom. It had all been taken up by sweets, Pop-tarts, biscuits, peanut butter, fruit snacks, and stones to throw at the girls in my dorm when they snored. I could have run my own grocery store out of that place!

When I realized that I didn't have any room left, I took the books to the next best place—the library. Madam Pince should be happy that I decided to be responsible and bring the books to the library. It wasn't like I pulled a Ginny Weasley and chucked the book at Moaning Myrtle in the bathroom. It was tempting, but it had already been done and I am not a copycat.

Most of the time.

Madam Pince wasn't around so I went a few rows in, found a large empty section, and shoved all seventeen books on the shelf. Inside each one, I wrote a note that said Enjoy!

Politeness goes a long way, my mother always told me. I guess that's why I only got detentions and was never actually expelled from Hogwarts. Because you would think that after a certain amount of time, professors would get sick of handing out detentions and would just go straight for expulsion.

I don't think anyone noticed until a few weeks later. I had just gotten out of my detentions with Umbridge and was studying in the library when the incident happened.

I really hate being in the wrong place at the wrong time. If I hadn't been studying in the library, chances are that I would have never been blamed for this. But, like I said before, seven times out of ten I get caught. They really aren't the best statistics. I would fail as a criminal. Glad I didn't choose to go that route.

"Madam Pince, I think these books are on the wrong shelf." I glanced up to see a first year Ravenclaw handing Madam Pince a pile of seventeen books. "They don't fit in to your system."

Madam Pince scowled down at the books, as if she was mortally offended that someone had messed up her ordering system. Her scowl grew when she saw the titles of the books.

"These don't belong anywhere in this library," she snipped. "These aren't library books."

From my spot at the table, I could see the titles of the books as well. Uh-oh. This wasn't going to end well.

Madam Pince flipped through the books. Her scowl grew as she scanned the contents.

"This is rubbish," she announced. "There's no fact in these books."

"They are not rubbish!" I cried, drawing attention to myself. Madam Pince glared at me.

"Whispering only in the library," she warned me.

"What kind of librarian are you?" I demanded. "Calling books rubbish! Those are fantastic books!"

Madam Pince narrowed her eyes.

"Did you put those in here?" she asked.

"Yes," I admitted. "But now I'll find somewhere else to place them if you're just going to call them rubbish. Books have feelings, too!"

I snatched the books from her hands and stormed out, making sure to grab my book bag, parchment, and wand as I did. Unfortunately, carrying that many things could only lead to disaster.

Of course it would happen to me. My book bag split open, dumping ink and parchment everywhere. I slipped on a piece of parchment and fell forward, dumping the pile of books in my wands everywhere. My wand slipped out of my hand and rolled a few meters away where it sparked and ignited the closest bookshelf.

I cringed as students started screaming about the flames. I would be lucky to make it out of this one alive. Madam Pince was furious when someone even bent a page. I had set her precious books on fire. Shit…

"Detention!"


	25. Rule #25

Rule #25: Tricking a house-elf into stripping does not mean that they are now mine, even if I yell "Pwned!"

I'm still very disappointed that this isn't how you get a house-elf to serve you. It would be amazing to have a house-elf. I would have never had to do homework then!

Or do chores.

Or feed the animals.

Or get dressed.

Or go bra shopping.

Or buy tampons and the like.

Do you know how awkward that is? Especially if the clerk is a guy! That just borders on the edge of TMI. I mean, that's not how I want to introduce myself to a guy.

"Hi, my name's Faye and yes, I'm able to menstruate. That means I'll be able to bear your children but watch out, otherwise my vagina won't be the only thing getting punched every month by Mother Nature."

Yeah, that guy went literally screaming for the hills. On the bright side, it got a woman sales clerk to come out and sympathetically ring up my products. I ran into her a few weeks later and she happily informed me that the guy I scared off was now happily married to a guy that he had run over while running away from me.

He's very thankful. We still trade Christmas cards every year. He's a great guy.

Anyway, back to house-elves.

I had discovered the kitchens in my first year. The prefects took us on a tour and pointed it out to us. I was really happy that they did because I would have never figured out. Because, really? Tickling a pear?

And I thought I was strange.

The kitchens soon became my favorite hideout. For some reason, the teachers never bother to look in the kitchens. Maybe they figure we don't know where it is. Or maybe they are the ones that don't know where it is.

Either way, the kitchens were a good place to hide when you were on the run from the professors.

During my third year, I started realized how useful house-elves could be. They were willing to do anything to make a person happy. And I mean anything.

"What can Harvey do for Miss Faye?"

"Can you write my History of Magic essay for me?" Harvey jumped up and down in excitement.

"Harvey will gladly write the essay for Miss Faye!"

"But before you do that, can you bring me a non-fat caramel latte with low-fat, homemade whipped cream and shaved chocolate on top? With Nutella mixed in?"

"Harvey will do that right away!"

"And can you wash my tie for me? I got a stain on it while in Charms."

"Harvey will do that while making Miss Faye's latte!"

"And can you strip naked for a minute?"

"Harvey will do so for Miss Faye!"

Within minutes, my tie was washed, my homework was finished, and I was sipping my latte while the house-elf was stripping for me. See? House-elves are very useful to have around.

As soon as Harvey was naked (the sight wasn't as traumatizing as one would think), I decided to enact my grand plan.

"PWNED!" I yelled. Harvey jumped two feet into the air in fright. As he recovered, I waited for a few minutes.

"Did it work?" I asked.

"Did what work, Miss Faye?" Harvey asked.

"Are you my house-elf now?"

Harvey looked confused and shook his head.

"Harvey is still a house-elf of Hogwarts, Miss Faye. Harvey will serve Hogwarts until he dies."

"Dammit!" Harvey jumped another two feet in the air.

"Why didn't it work?" I whined, stomping around the kitchens. "It was planned perfectly! Why didn't it work?"

"That is not how a wizard or witch comes to own a house-elf, Miss Faye," Harvey explained.

"But I yelled 'Pwned'," I whined. I crossed my arms and sat on the floor. "I want a house-elf! How do I get a house-elf?"

Harvey opened his mouth to answer but Professor Sprout stormed in. She had finally found me after looking for nearly three hours. I was proud of her. It normally takes her longer to find me.

I guess I'll never know how one comes to own a house-elf because Professor Sprout took one look at a naked Harvey and instantly assumed I was responsible.

"Detention!"


	26. Rules #26 and #27

Rule #26: I am not a sloth Animagus

Rule #27: I am not a tribble Animagus

What do you get when a person is slow, lazy, and has too much hair? A sloth Animagus. Now what do you get when a person has even more hair, purrs, and is mortal enemies with a few Muggleborns that are Klingon fans? A tribble Animagus.

Guess who's both a sloth Animagus and a tribble Animagus?

Apparently not me.

Apparently it takes more than not cutting your hair and learning how to purr to become an Animagus.

Stupid. Who'd make becoming an Animagus so difficult anyway? Why not make it something that everyone can do. I mean, I don't know of any person that wakes up in the morning and says, "I don't think it would be cool to turn into an animal. In fact, I'd swallow my wand before I would voluntarily turn into an animal."

I've also never met anyone that's swallowed his or her wand before. I imagine it would be painful, though, when the wand decided to come out the other end. It'd make for an amusing story but I'm not the type of person that would voluntarily go through pain just to get a few laughs. Take note of that word—voluntarily.

Yep, that's right. I've gone through pain to get a few laughs but it wasn't willingly. Stupid Peeves, targeting me for Halloween pranks during my sixth year. Completely uncalled for. And of course that was the one year when I couldn't rely on the teachers for help. Bloody sadists.

Sixth year was just miserable for me. Professor Snape was the headmaster of Hogwarts, which meant that he was too busy to oversee detentions. Such a shame. I had been actually starting to enjoy his detentions by then. I had also started learning to enjoy Professor McGonagall's detentions as well. She may have been a Gryffindor but she actually appreciates the occasional explosion. Just not when I'm the cause of it.

It was during one of those detentions with Professor McGonagall that we got onto the topic of Animagi. She had been giving students Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons in her detentions because we were basically just learning Dark Arts in our actual Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

"Normally the creature you transform into is a creature whose personality you resemble the most to," she explained.

"So that means I would be a sloth Animagus?" I asked. Professor McGonagall sighed.

"No, you wouldn't be a sloth Animagus," she answered.

"I think I would be," I protested. "It may not look like it but I can actually be very lazy. Plus I have an adorable face and a lot of hair."

"I know you can be lazy," Professor McGonagall muttered. "I still haven't gotten your essays from first year. Or third year."

"I'll get on that whenever I can find my motivation," I promised her. "However, it's currently still locked up in a jail somewhere."

Professor McGonagall just shook her head.

"I think I would be a tribble Animagus," I said a few minutes later. Professor McGonagall didn't even bother asking. Over the years, she's learned that it's better to just not ask questions.

"I would be a tribble Animagus because I have a lot more hair than a sloth and because I'm adorable. Plus, I learned how to purr over the summer. And the Klingon fans around the school used to hate me."

"You wouldn't be a tribble Animagus," Professor McGonagall said calmly as she marked an essay with red ink. "And the Klingon fans used to hate you because you butchered their language, ruined opera for them forever, and tried to use Klingon rituals to mate with them and then got offended when they refused to read love poetry to you."

I grinned widely.

"That was a good day," I said. Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes and continued marking essays.

After a few more minutes, I stood up.

"Where are you going?" Professor McGonagall asked as I prepared to leave her office.

"I'm going to learn how to become a sloth or tribble Animagus," I told her. "I figured the best way to do that is to try and act like the animal as much as possible."

"And how are you going to do that?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"I'm going to climb a tree or a pillar, hang on a branch or a ceiling, and sleep," I informed her. "Then I'm going to wake up, eat at a really slow pace, purr, and repeat the process."

I don't think Professor McGonagall actually believed I was serious at the time. However, she should have known by then that I'm always serious when it comes to that sort of thing.

The next morning, the students had gathered in the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Psst!"

The students looked around for me, recognizing my voice. A few of the Hufflepuffs flinched out of reflex.

"Psst!"

A few of the smarter ones thought to look up. They poked their friends, who also looked up and then poked their other friends. Soon the entire Great Hall was staring up at me.

"Hey Draco, could you pass me a piece of toast?"

The professors stormed over to where I was hanging from the Great Hall ceiling before I could get my piece of toast.

"What are you doing up there?" Alecto Carrow demanded.

"Trying to become a sloth-slash-tribble Animagus!" I called down to her. "Now can I have a piece of toast?"

"Get down here this instant!" Alecto Carrow ordered.

"But I'm trying to become a sloth-slash-tribble Animagus!" I protested. "I have enough hair!"

Alecto Carrow apparently didn't like being defied. She whipped out her wand and started blasting curses in my direction. In shock, I let go. I would have landed in the eggs had Professor Flitwick not slowed me down with a spell.

"Oi!" I cried. "What do you think you're doing? You ruined my experiments! Now I have to start all over again!"

Alecto Carrow was fuming. She raged on at the top of her lungs for a few minutes before she was calm enough to issue my verdict.

"Detention!"


	27. Rule #28

Rule # 28: I am allowed to have a toad, rat, cat, or owl. I am not allowed to have a reticulated python, snow leopard, Tasmanian Devil, or piranha.

I don't know if you've realized by now, but I'm not the type of person that likes conforming to rules. My father always taught me that rules were something to try and work around, not obey like a cyberman.

That's why I always struggled with the rule about being allowed a toad, rat, cat, or owl. Those were so boring. Plus the only useful pet out of the bunch was an owl. I suppose a toad could be useful too but only for when you need to test out Potions.

My first year I honestly tried to follow this rule and adopted a toad I had found by the Black Lake. We were great pals and she liked to hang around with Trevor. They would go exploring together. The only difference between Castiel and Trevor is that Castiel actually came back to me.

Unfortunately, Castiel suffered…a tragic accident the summer before my second year. How was I supposed to know that my father was prone to craving fried frog legs?

And yes, we were both well aware that Castiel was a toad. Doesn't mean he wasn't delicious when fried.

As I went shopping for a new pet, I realized that I didn't want a toad, rat, cat, or owl. Toads would just end up being killed by my father. Rats, I would learn, had a tendency to transform into human mass murderers. Cats were just plain evil. And I never trusted an animal that could rotate their heads almost all the way around and still live. Obviously an owl was out.

So I chose a piranha. I would have gotten away with it had numerous Slytherins not went to Professor Snape with parts of their fingers missing.

We had fried fish for dinner in the Great Hall the night after he found out. Poor Jack.

My third year, I knew that a piranha or any other type of fish wouldn't be allowed. So I went a different angle—a Tasmanian Devil. He was cute. I named him Kevin.

Kevin lasted longer than Jack the Piranha but he was gone by Halloween. The other girls in the dorm kept complaining about the smell. Unlike Jack, Kevin continues to live. Hagrid realized his potential and adopted him. I visit from time to time. Kevin seems to like it at Hagrid's.

My fourth year was when I tried to suck up to Professor Snape. I got a snake.

Not just any snake.

A reticulated python.

An eight meter reticulated python.

I named her Nagini.

Let's just say that Professor Snape not being happy about that little fact was the understatement of the century.

It probably didn't help that Nagini had escaped and made her way into Professor Snape's office, where she attempted to squeeze his favorite cauldron to death.

Nagini is now safe and sound in the San Francisco Zoo. Hopefully Professor Snape never goes to the San Francisco Zoo. His probable reaction would be hard to explain to authorities.

Finally, my fifth year I had one more idea for a pet. A snow leopard named Rose. I loved her tail. It was so warm!

I also loved how large she was. I looked so sophisticated when she would stand next to me and growl.

Professor Snape wasn't the only teacher to protest her presence. In fact, none of the teachers wanted her around. It's such a shame. Rose was a real sweetheart.

"Absolutely not," Professor Snape said as soon as I walked into the Great Hall with Rose at my side.

"Why not?" I wanted to know.

"Have you not learned from the past? Only a toad, rat, cat, or owl is allowed as a pet."

"But she is a cat!" I pointed out. "Can you not see the ears? Or the tail?"

"No," Professor Snape said firmly. My lower lip jutted out.

"But I want her as my pet," I told him.

"No," Professor Snape repeated.

"Well, too bad," I told him. "She's staying and that's that."

"No," Professor Snape said. "Absolutely not. That creature isn't allowed in this castle as your pet."

"But if it was someone else's pet, it would be okay?"

"Yes, because then I wouldn't have to worry about it eating other students as much."

"Rose doesn't even like the taste of humans," I informed him. "She prefers beef."

"Get her out of here!" Professor Snape ordered.

"No," I said, stomping my foot. "She's my pet. I want a pet that actually stays the entire year."

"Then get a different pet," Professor Snape snapped. "Now get rid of her."

"No," I said again. Professor Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously.

Let's just say Professor Snape always gets his way. By the end of the night, I had missed the welcoming feast, Professor Dumbledore had convinced Professor McGonagall to adopt Rose, and I had—

Wait for it.

Detention.


	28. Rule #29

Rule #29: I do not weigh the same as a duck.

I could weigh the same as a duck. I used to! But then I grew into a little person that could walk and talk.

It still depresses me to this day that this isn't true. I mean, I saw it in a movie! It should be a law or something that only true facts can be portrayed in movies! Otherwise they can be very misleading…I mean, I've learned a lot of things from movies. For example, animals can talk, toys are actually alive, and that the nerdy, shy girl always becomes a hot babe and ends up with the popular guy. And until this incident, I had always believed that I had a chance since clearly everything in the movies is true.

Still, one has to admit that the logic makes a lot of sense. I mean, we learned in History of Magic that in the witch-hunts that a witch would float and that a Muggle would sink. There has to be some sort of science behind that!

I should make it known that yes, I am well aware that witches are not made of wood. I'm not that stupid. It offends me that people think so. I'm actually quite smart. I just never feel like acting like I am. It's more fun to lose points anyway.

However, I should point out that while witches are not made of wood, our primary tools are made of wood. I've never come across a wand that wasn't made of wood!

Well, there was that one time in that nightclub with the guy but that's a totally different story…

Okay, so maybe not all kinds of wands are made of wood…

Wait…

Never mind.

All wands are made of wood.

One way or the other.

Therefore, a witch makes her living by using wood. And believe me when I say that once a wand is set on fire, everything goes up in flames. I know from experience. I was on my third wand by the time I was preparing for O.W.L.s.

You can't deny that my argument has a valid point. Unfortunately, a certain know-it-all Gryffindor doesn't agree with me.

"There's no possible way you can weigh the same as a duck!" Hermione Granger snapped. By this point, we had been at this argument for nearly an hour. I have some Gryffindor stubbornness in me as well.

"Of course there is! We all weigh the same as a duck!"

"Maybe when we were infants," Granger said. "But not now."

"Then how do we float?" I asked. The Gryffindor rolled her eyes.

"Because we have body fat," she replied. "Just because we float does not mean that we weigh the same as a duck. Where did you get this insane idea anyway?"

"Wood burns, as do witches," I pointed out. "Wood also floats. Ducks float. We float. Therefore, we weigh the same as a duck."

Granger just shook her head.

"No," she said. "Just—no. Nothing about that statement is right."

"So wood doesn't burn?" I asked.

"Well yes, wood burns but—"

"And does wood float?" I asked.

"Yes—"

"And do ducks float?" I continued.

"Yes, but—"

"And we all know that witches can float," I pointed out.

"I suppose—"

"Therefore I weigh the same as a duck!"

"No, not at all."

"Yes, at all."

"That doesn't even make sense," Hermione said with a frown.

"Of course it makes sense. You just don't understand."

"No, it doesn't…"

I huffed, irritated.

"I'll prove it!" I announced. "I'll show you that I weigh the same as a duck!"

"You really don't have to—"

"Luna! I need a duck!"

Don't ask me why Luna had a duck. I pretty much learned by third year that the Ravenclaw common room had everything. And I mean everything. If you needed it, they had it.

"How are you going to prove that you weigh the same as a duck?" someone asked. "You won't fit on any of the scales."

"Professor Snape has scales in his office."

Granger's eyes widened.

"We shouldn't go into his office," she said. I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

"He won't mind," I told her. "Whatever happened to that Gryffindor courage? Or is that all a big myth?"

I know what to do and say to get what I want. Almost immediately I had all of the Gryffindors in the hallway following me, trying to prove that they weren't scared of Professor Snape. A bunch of bullshit in my opinion. Everyone knows that the entire school, with the exception of the Slytherins, was scared of Professor Snape.

And that is how I managed to get seven or eight Gryffindors, a Ravenclaw, and a duck into Professor Snape's office and set the record for the most people being in that office at one time.

"Are those the scales?" Luna asked, pointed to a set in the corner, standing on the floor. I nodded.

"I'm so excited to use these!" I told her. "I've always wanted to use them but Professor Snape never let me."

"No surprise there…" Granger muttered under her breath. I ignored her.

"So what do we do first?" another Gryffindor asked.

"Luna, put the duck on the scales," I directed. "And then someone needs to give me a lift up."

The scales weren't very high off the ground but I lack any kind of upper body strength. Seriously. I couldn't lift a pillow before primary school and I had just learned how to lift a stick of butter before I had to go off to Hogwarts.

Those scales must have been pretty ancient because I hadn't even been in them for a full five seconds before the chain snapped. I yelped, the scales tipped over, the duck panicked and knocked over vials sitting on the shelves, and everyone screamed. The screaming scared the duck even more so it flew into a Gryffindor's face, causing them to scream even louder and go running around the room, knocking even more vials of potions to the ground and causing glass to shatter. Honestly, I would have been beyond surprised if Professor Snape hadn't come running. I would have been stunned. Astonished. Astounded. Basically any other word that means surprised.

Professor Snape didn't even have to evaluate the situation. The punishment was instantaneous.

"Detention!"


	29. Rule #30

Rule #30: Remus Lupin does not want a flea collar.

I don't care that Professor Lupin is a werewolf. He was an amazing teacher! He actually let me participate in class! He wasn't like Professor Moody or Professor Lockhart. They both would confiscate my wand at the beginning of class and refuse to even let me talk during class. I couldn't even mouth the words of spells!

How rude! So what if a couple explosions happened because I wanted to experiment?

Okay…maybe it was more than a few. But how else was I supposed to learn?

So, because Professor Lupin actually let me participate in class, I decided that he was worthy of a present once I found out that he had been fired. My mom always told me to show my appreciation for the people that I like. My dad taught me that the best presents to give are things that people need.

And what does a werewolf need? A flea collar. The reason should be obvious. You can't trust anything in the Forbidden Forest, let alone the fleas. They might be carrying some weird diseases that could turn your arm blue or give you some weird rash.

Of course, you can get a rash doing anything nowadays. Rub up against a tree? You get a rash. Fall on your face? You get a rash. Lick a person's hand? They get a rash. Meet a stranger? You get a rash.

So, once I came up with my idea, I wrote home and within two days, I had received a package from home. I also received a note from my parents, saying that they hoped that he had all his shots and to make sure of that before I brought him home. I don't know why they thought I would bring my professor home, especially for summer holidays but I suppose stranger things have happened. I didn't question it at the time. I don't question it now. It's better to just not ask questions, I've learned. Especially regarding my family.

"Professor Lupin?" I knocked on his door. Professor McGonagall was talking with him at the time and she immediately looked suspicious upon seeing me.

"Is there something you need?" she asked. "Otherwise it would be better to come back at a later time."

I gave her my most innocent look possible, which made her look even more suspicious.

"I just wanted to give Professor Lupin a going away present," I said, showing her the wrapped box. Professor Lupin looked surprised at that. I don't think he expected a Slytherin of all people to give him a going away present.

"Why?" he and Professor McGonagall asked at the same time.

"Because you never confiscated my wand and because you were never too mad when I blew up the classroom," I explained. Professor Lupin winced at the memories.

"Still not sure how that happened," he muttered. "I never knew that you could start a fire underwater…"

Heh. I'm that special apparently. I passed the present over to Professor Lupin. His eyebrows rose when he saw that it was in an old necklace box.

"I didn't really have any other box to put it in," I explained. "The only other box I have is the one I'm using to send a house-elf home in."

"You're doing what?" Professor McGonagall asked sharply.

Whoops. Wasn't supposed to mention that. I laughed nervously.

"Kidding, kidding," I said, trying to pass it off as a joke. Professor McGonagall looked as if she didn't believe me. She never does. I'm sure the first thing she did after she left the room was to go and count the house-elves. Well, there goes that plan.

Professor Lupin opened the box and his eyebrows rose even more.

"A collar?" he asked. Professor McGonagall looked scandalized.

"Yep!" I said, nodding eagerly. "Specially designed to keep away the fleas!"

Professor McGonagall quickly turned from scandalized to horrified to angry.

"Thank you?" Professor Lupin said, not sure how to respond.

"It's a good brand," I assured him. "My friend at home has a dog and says it works like a charm—ow, ow, OW!"

Professor McGonagall had grabbed me by my ear and was tugging me out of the room.

"The gall!" she hissed. "Did you honestly think that such a present was appropriate?"

"Yes," I mumbled and winced as she twisted my ear even further.

"Detention!"


	30. Rule #31

Rule #31: I do not have a dalek Patronus.

Who agrees with me that having a dalek for a Patronus would be the most awesome thing ever? No dementor would stand a chance! They would be exterminated on sight!

And for the record, conjuring a Patronus is hard! It took me nearly a month to master the spell and that only conjured a non-corporeal Patronus, not a corporeal Patronus. It was very disappointing but it encouraged me to keep trying.

I'm not going to bother telling you how many detentions I got for attacking students outside because they had their hoods of their cloaks up. It was great practice for using the Patronus charm but it sure annoyed my professors. I would feel sorry but I had fun terrorizing the first years. And the second years. And the third years. And basically every student and professor and ghost on Hogwarts grounds.

"Expecto Patronum!" I cried, pointing my wand at a second year Gryffindor who promptly burst into tears. A silvery vapor erupted from my wand and I squinted to see if I could see what animal it would make. My eyes widened. It was rather triangular like and it looked like it had metal bolts.

"Not again!" I heard Professor Sprout grumble from a few meters away. She stormed over, prepared to confiscate my wand.

"Wait!" I held up my hand. "I'm trying to figure out what my Patronus is!"

"And you can't do it without causing other students to break out into tears?" Professor Sprout looked furious.

"Of course not," I huffed. "The crying is the best part!"

The second year I had startled began crying even harder. Crybaby.

"Oh my god!" I screeched as I realized what my Patronus looked like. "I have a dalek for a Patronus! This is the coolest thing ever!"

"What on earth is a dalek?" Professor Sprout asked.

"It's an alien whose goal is to exterminate the world," I explained.

"Of course," Professor Sprout grumbled as she tried to console the crying Gryffindor.

"They're also really adorable and go 'Exterminate, exterminate, exterminate' and are afraid of the Doctor!" I told her.

"They're afraid of a doctor?" Professor Sprout asked in disbelief.

"No, no, no…Not a doctor but the Doctor," I corrected her. "The Doctor is an alien as well."

"Aliens don't exist," Professor Sprout claimed.

"Of course they exist! What do you think Cornelius Fudge is?"

Professor Sprout just shook her head. I immediately started casting the Patronus Charm again and again, trying to get it into a more corporeal form.

"Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!"

"Would you stop!" Professor Sprout shouted. "I'll confiscate your wand again!"

"But I want to teach my Patronus how to go 'Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!'" I whined. "That would be the most awesome thing ever!"

Professor Sprout didn't look very happy at my reasoning. She held out her hand.

"Give me your wand," she said. My lower lip jutted out.

"No," I said.

"Give me your wand."

"No."

"Now."

"No!"

Professor Sprout growled and began walking in my direction. I took off running.

"Give me your wand now!" Professor Sprout commanded.

"Never!" I cried and shot off another Patronus Charm.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Professor Sprout watched as a silvery chipmunk burst out of my wand.

"How do you mistake a chipmunk for a dalek?" a watching student asked. I sunk to the ground, pouting.

"I wanted it to be a dalek!" I cried. "Expecto Patronum!"

Another silvery chipmunk burst out of my wand.

"Dammit!" I cried.

"Language!" Professor Sprout scolded me.

"I'm speaking English!" I told her. Professor Sprout wasn't impressed by my comeback.

"Then you'll understand this next word," she told me. I decided to yell the word along with her, just to prove I knew it.

"Detention!"


	31. Rule #32

Rule #32: I will not lick Trevor

I'm starting to notice that most of my learning actually happens in the summer. I mean, you wouldn't learn at Hogwarts that toad slime is supposed to get you high. I don't think the professors at Hogwarts even know what the colloquial term 'high' means.

Of course, I had a somewhat unique upbringing and my parents taught me what it meant so I would know what to avoid. Of course, being a newly made teenager at boarding school brings out the rebellious side in all of us.

Unfortunately, since my incident with the mushrooms and the marijuana plants, Professor Sprout kept a close eye on whatever I brought into the greenhouses. Professor Snape and the other heads of houses would implement random dorm checks, so I couldn't keep any plants in the dorms either. I tried but my roommates would always snitch on me.

Snitches. They should dress in yellow and fly around on broomsticks. That way they could be snitches in every sense of the word.

Of course Madam Hooch had to turn that proposal down. Apparently she had already heard that idea from the Weasley twins before. And from Sirius Black and James Potter. Stupid Gryffindors, stealing my ideas.

I must have been feeling particularly rebellious that week, because I actually left the common room and went to the library to do some research. Madam Pince wouldn't give me any books with the term "hallucinogenic plants" in it. It's like the professors all got together one day and said "Let's do everything we can to prevent Faye from experimenting with drugs."

Meanies.

I couldn't find anything in the library so I wrote my dad, asking what he did when he wanted to have 'fun.'" He didn't ask questions about what fun meant. His list pretty much covered all the bases.

Sneak into Hogsmeade

Paint the windows of Hogwarts

Run around in circles

Jump off the Astronomy Tower and try to fly

Ride a centaur

Go streaking through the Forbidden Forest

Lick a toad

Set off fireworks under your professors' beds

Spike Professor Dumbledore's drink with firewhiskey

Sneak a cat and a mouse into the owlery

Throw a dog in for good measure

Have a flash mob

Steal the wands of every student and hide them in different places around the castle

My dad has genius ideas sometimes. Even better than mine. He wasn't a Ravenclaw for nothing.

Only one of those seemed like it would achieve what I wanted to try.

Licking a toad.

Since I didn't have Castiel to try and lick, there was only one other toad that I knew of—Trevor.

Of course, Neville rarely let Trevor out of his sight. He already ran—hopped—away too many times.

Luckily I received the list at a time when Trevor was a resident of the Gryffindor Tower. Of course, that meant I had to sneak into Gryffindor Tower and into the boys' dorm to actually get access to that slippery little toad.

Naturally, I decided to go at midnight.

Let's just say it was amazing that I didn't get caught on my journey from the Slytherin common room to the Gryffindor Tower. I knocked over so many suits of armor and fell down so many sets of stairs that I had bruises for weeks afterwards. Don't even ask me how I managed to get into the Gryffindor common room. I'm still not sure how I pulled that one off.

"Trevor!" I whispered loudly as I rolled into the boys' dorm. "Where are you, Trevor?"

Someone grunted from their bed but I didn't pay them any mind. Instead, I crawled along the floor, looking for Trevor.

"Trevor!" I whispered again, even louder. "Come out, come out!"

I was searching along Neville's bed when my hand came into something slimy. I let out an unearthly screech, which caused the boys to wake up in a fright. Oops.

I looked down and saw Trevor hopping along my hand.

"Trevor!" I grabbed the toad happily and gave him a quick lick. Almost immediately I started gagging. Most disgusting taste ever! I couldn't believe that my father had recommended doing this!

I can't remember much of what happened for the next few hours. One minute I was licking a toad and sprinting away from the Gryffindor Tower and the next thing I knew, I was in the hospital wing with an irate Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape standing over me, debating on what would be the best form of punishment. Madam Pomfrey said that what I experienced was punishment enough. Professor McGonagall was all for giving me a week's worth of detention and Professor Snape only wanted to take off points. He must have had a similar experience with toads.

"No! This is absolutely inexcusable!" Professor McGonagall snapped.

"She's already in the hospital wing," Madam Pomfrey protested. "For most students, that's worse than any detention."

"And detentions obviously aren't working," Professor Snape agreed. "She gets one almost every day."

I must have still been tripping because Professor Snape sounded faintly impressed by that fact.

Professor McGonagall was frowning.

"I still say she needs at least one detention," she said.

"Fine," Professor Snape agreed. "As long as I can go to bed."

When I woke up in the morning there was a note on the bedside table.

Detention.


	32. Rule #33

Rule #33: I will stop asking the Arithmancy teacher what the square root of -1 is.

Let's face it. Barely anyone understands math at Hogwarts. We only know how to add up points and how to subtract points.

Some people don't even know how to do that. Let's face it. We're just lucky that Crabbe and Goyle know that one plus one equals two and that two plus two equal four.

Therefore it's not surprise that almost everyone who takes Arithmancy fails it or drops out within the year.

My mother basically forced me into taking Arithmancy. I didn't want to but she thinks that I need to know math, even if it's magical math.

Then she went on to explain how even Muggle math can be considered magic. Especially something called Calculus 3.

I hope I never have to learn that. Because let's face it. The world is just lucky that I know my multiplication table. By the time I started Arithmancy, basic algebra was way out of my league.

But that's what teachers are for. Professor Vector is surprisingly patient.

I suppose it's a requirement since she usually has to show the class how to solve a problem five or six times before we can even begin to understand it.

Of course, before we can learn Arithmancy, Professor Vector had to make sure that we knew algebra. Our first couple of weeks was spent on learning Muggle math. It drove me insane! Professor Vector just wanted us to know how to calculate things. I, on the other hand, wanted to know why four was called four and not three. Or how we even came up with the idea to multiply and divide.

Or what the square root of -1 is. I can tell you what the square root of 4 is. I can tell you what the square root of 1 is. And yet Professor Vector never bothered to teach us what the square root of -1 is.

Why can't the negative numbers be treated as equally as numbers greater than zero? Numbers have feelings too!

After a few class periods, it really began to annoy me, so I decided to ask.

"Professor Vector, what's the square root of -1? Is it still -1?"

Professor Vector looked surprised at my question. Maybe it was the fact that I was actually awake and paying attention in class for once. It was common knowledge among the professors that I considered classes as naptime.

"You'll never need to know that for this class," she said and tried to move on. Of course, I wasn't satisfied to leave it at that.

"But I still want to know," I said. "So what's the square root of -1?"

Professor Vector tried to ignore me. I don't know why teachers think that will work. It only makes me try harder to get their attention.

"Professor Vector, what's the square root of -1?" I asked. "Huh, huh, huh?"

"Why do you want to know if you don't need to know it?" Professor Vector asked.

"Because negative numbers should be treated equally as positive numbers," I informed her. "Why are we ignoring the negative numbers?"

"Because we don't need to learn it for this class," Professor Vector responded.

"But that's not fair!" I whined. "The negative numbers feel abandoned!"

"Numbers can't feel anything," Professor Vector said, starting to look irritated. "Now can we get back to class?"

"No! I want to know what the square root of -1 is!"

"It doesn't matter!"

"Yes it does! Tell me!"

"Open your book and start your problems!" Professor Vector snapped.

"Tell me what the square root of -1 is!"

Professor Vector glared at me. That's another thing I don't understand. Professors should have heard through the grapevine that I will always win glaring contests. Always! It's one of my special talents.

Once Professor Vector had lost the glaring contest—giving me another victory to add to the list—she went back to teaching the material. Every once in a while I would raise my hand to ask my question but she would never call on me. Eventually I would put my hand down because my arm was tired.

By the end of class, I was sick of raising my hand and then having to put it down three minutes and forty-six seconds later. I decided to use my voice instead.

"Professor Vector! Professor Vector! Professor Vector!"

"What?"

"What's the square root of -1?"

She didn't respond.

"Professor Vector! Professor Vector! Professor Vector!"

"What?"

"What's the square root of -1?"

"Do you have your workbook done?"

I looked down at my workbook, which was blank.

"No, because I was too preoccupied with trying to figure out what the square root of -1 is!"

Professor Vector sighed.

"I don't know, all right?" she snapped. "And I'll see you later tonight when you're here, finishing your workbook."

"Later tonight? Does that mean—?"

"Yes, you have detention."


	33. Rule #34

Rule #34: The Ravenclaws are not "Mentats in training".

It all started with cranberries.

Yes, you read that right. Cranberries.

It's not my fault that all Ravenclaws apparently love cranberries or that cranberries can stain the lips of those that eat them. And it's certainly not my fault that Ravenclaws are the smarty-pants of Hogwarts. Well, for the most part. There's always the odd person out. Like my father. Seriously…sometimes I wonder about that man.

That morning I plopped down next to Luna at the Ravenclaw table, ignoring how the other Ravenclaws immediately scooted as far away from us as possible. I was currently banned from the Slytherin table for some reason or another. I think it was because I pretended the common room was on fire at three o'clock on a Monday morning.

Note to self—do that again to see the boys running around in nothing but their boxers. That was a glorious sight.

"What'cha eating?" I asked Luna. She held up a bowl filled with cranberries.

"Want some?" she asked. I shook my head.

"I'm allergic to vegetables," I told her.

"Berries are in the fruit family," Luna corrected absently.

"Well, I'm allergic to fruit, too. I'm allergic to anything that's not meat or bread or desserts."

"You should go to the hospital wing and get checked for Gillywags," Luna recommended.

"I already did," I said with a sigh. "Madam Pomfrey doesn't agree with my diagnosis and my mother says it's all in my head. Are you going to eat your bacon?"

Without waiting for her reply, I snitched the breakfast food off the plate and shoved it in my mouth. Luna continued eating her cranberries. I looked around the Ravenclaw table, noting that most of them were eating the cranberries. At least, I assumed most of them were eating cranberries, judging by the color of their lips. They could have been eating raspberries, for all I know.

As I continued to eat the bacon off of Luna's plate, I opened up the book my father had sent along with the latest care package. It was old but it was pretty decent for a Muggle book. It didn't try and mix up facts like many of the recent ones were doing. It just made up everything. Last time I checked, werewolves couldn't transform any time they wanted. They especially can't transform during the day. Honestly…

Something about this book was bugging me, though. Lips the color of cranberries? For human computers? Why did that sound so familiar?

I looked up and promptly let out a screech, tossing the book in the air. A few of the students in the Great Hall jumped but most just ignored my scream. They were used to it by now.

"You're a computer!" I said, turning to Luna. She blinked at me.

"What's a computer?" she asked.

"Well, you're not really a computer," I corrected. "You're a mentat."

"What's a mentat?" Luna asked.

"A human computer!"

"What's a computer?" Luna asked again.

"You don't know what a computer is?" Luna shook her head.

"Should I?"

I gaped at her. How could someone not know what a computer was? Did she live under a rock?

"Only the best thing after the invention of sliced bread!" I informed her.

"Sliced bread was invented?"

I stared down at the toast on my plate.

"It must have been," I murmured. "Why else would we have it?"

"Is a computer like that Muggle electricity thing?" Luna asked. I mulled over that for a moment.

"Sort of. It needs electricity," I said. "I'd say that you should get one but you're a mentat, so you don't need one."

"What's a mentat?" another Ravenclaw asked, overhearing.

"A human computer," I told him.

"What's a computer?"

I stared at him in disbelief.

"Does no one in this forsaken place know what a computer is?" I yelled, frustrated, drawing the professors' attention. Crap. The Great Hall quieted and I could see the professors trading looks, as if deciding who should handle the situation. Apparently Professor Snape was elected because he stood up a few seconds later.

"Is there a problem?" Professor Snape asked as he approached the table a few minutes later.

"Yes, these mentats don't know what a computer is," I said, crossing my arms angrily. Professor Snape sighed.

"Was it necessary to create a disturbance?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied. "Mentats should know what a computer is. They're human computers after all."

"Don't call your classmates names," Professor Snape said dully, as if his heart wasn't in the threat.

"But they're mentats!" I whined.

"Five points to Slytherin for making that connection," Professor Snape said. I clapped happily. It wasn't often that I won points for the house. Most times I was in charge of losing them. My clapping didn't last for long, though, because Professor Snape continued.

"And detention for disobeying me."


	34. Rule #35

Rule #35: Any resemblance between the Dementors and the Nazgul is coincidental.

I really can't be the only person who has noticed this. There has to be more than just me in the world!

I've read all the books. I've done as much research on this subject that one can possibly do and I've reached only one conclusion—Dementors are the illegitimate children of the Nazgul. I mean, why else would no one acknowledge the similarities between the two? We've seen it happen in history before. Just look at any royal family!

I literally have notebooks filled with this research. Entire notebooks! Yes, that's notebook in its plural form. I must have eight or nine notebooks.

Granted, most of the pages in them are filled with drawings of what I think it must be like for Dementors to procreate, but no one has to know about those. I'd rather not have The Talk again. Especially because Professor Snape would have to give it since he's my head of house.

I think we'd both rather get lobotomies.

Since Madam Pince and the other professors weren't forthcoming with the information—some of the professors even laughed in my face!—I decided that I needed to ask directly from the source.

It wasn't that hard to find a Dementor. It was my second year, after all. Hogwarts was literally swarming with them. It certainly made my job easier. At least with them hanging around the school grounds, I didn't have to find a way to get to Azkaban. I'm sure my parents wouldn't appreciate a letter saying that I had been expelled and shipped off to prison because I had used the killing curse on a fellow student. I'm not sure that they would believe me if I said it was an accident.

After lunch, I pulled out a new notebook, preparing for my interview.

"Catch y'all later," I told the Slytherins in my year. "I'm going to go interview a Dementor."

They laughed, not really believing me. Why is it that no one believes me when I'm serious and they believe me when I'm joking?

Really, I had no plans to feed the weakest first year to the Giant Squid. He doesn't even eat humans!

I was nearly out of the Great Hall when someone caught up to me.

"Hey, Faye!" I turned and stared at the Gryffindor girl running up to me. Why was a Gryffindor talking to me?

"What do you want, Girl Weasley?" I asked.

"I wanted to ask you about that Ravenclaw you hang out with. Luna? My name's Ginny, by the way."

"What do you want with Luna, Girl Weasley?" I asked suspiciously. I would not allow this Gryffindor to talk away one of my friends. I needed all the friends I could get! How else was I supposed to take over the world?

And yes, that time I was joking. Just for anyone who might have even remotely believed that. Taking over the world would be too much work. I'll leave that goal to Voldemort. Besides, I don't think he would appreciate the competition.

"What is she like?"

"Luna? She's one of the most awesome people in the school. Of course, she hangs out with me, so she would have to be," I told the Girl Weasley.

"Has she been feeling okay? I heard about the explosion."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"No permanent damage," I said. "I told her not to stand so close."

"Where are you going?"

"To interview a Dementor?" That stopped Girl Weasley in her tracks.

"Really?" she asked. I nodded.

"Are you sure that's safe?"

"It's perfectly safe!" I said. "What's the worst they can do? Steal your soul?"

Girl Weasley didn't look amused by that.

"Why are you interviewing a Dementor?" she asked. I shrugged.

"Because I want to find out how they became the illegitimate children of the Nazgul."

"The what?"

"The Nazgul. You know, like in Lord of the Rings?"

"Is that Muggle related?" Ginny asked. I sighed and pulled out the first book that I had stored in my robes pocket.

"Read this and don't damage it. If you damage it, I'll make sure you never sleep again," I warned her. The Gryffindor's eyes widened and she nodded.

"Where do you two think you're going?" Girl Weasley and I stopped in our tracks at the sound of Professor Sprout's voice. We were nearly at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. We turned to face her. I smiled innocently.

"I have to interview someone," I said. Professor Sprout looked suspicious.

"Who?" she asked.

"I think his name is Phillip," I said. "He's the Dementor that guards the entrance to the Forbidden Forest."

Professor Sprout's eyes widened at the word Dementor.

"You want to interview a Dementor?" she asked. I nodded.

"I want to know how they feel being the illegitimate children of the Nazgul," I said. "And why they want to keep it a secret, when it's obviously not."

Professor Sprout sighed.

"Oh, dear Merlin," she muttered. "Come with me."

"Why? Are you going to introduce us to Phillip?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Then I won't come with you," I told her. "I really need to talk to Phillip."

"You're not going anywhere near those creatures!" Professor Sprout snapped shrilly. "They'll suck out your soul!"

"A small price for a great interview," I told her, waving her comment off. Professor Sprout's eyes widened even further and her face began to get all splotchy.

"Detention!"


	35. Rule #36

Rule #36: I will not change the password to the Prefects' bath to "Makes getting clean as much fun as getting dirty"

If you don't want students to change the passwords, don't make them so easy to change. It's as simple as that.

Also, don't allow us access to Ravenclaws, who can find out about password changing spells in a matter of days and master said spells. At least make it more of a challenge for us. It's no fun if there's no challenge to it.

Even the Weasley twins agree with me on that.

I wish all baths were like the Prefects' bath at Hogwarts. Using that bath makes it worth to take a bath.

And this is coming from me. I hate taking baths. Almost as much as I hate eating vegetables.

Now, let me clarify something. I hate taking baths but that doesn't mean I'm not a cleanly person. I take showers daily. Sometimes two or three times daily, depending on how many explosions I've caused or how much running I've had to do.

Baths are just tedious. Showers are quick and necessary. Baths just take up time I don't have. Time that could be better spent coming up with an invention that could make the richest person in the world.

Or just an invention that would make it so I wouldn't have to actually get a boring job like my mother. I never understood why she would become a teacher. Didn't she learn anything from raising me?

It should be known that the hardest thing about passwords is actually coming up with a password. It should be something that's not easily predicted like "Open sesame!" or "Supercalifragilisticexpialid ocious!" or just "Open up!" That's so dull.

No, it needs to be something unique.

It needs to be something like "Mwuhahahaha!" or "Cheep cheep" or…well, I guess they were on to something with "Supercalifragilisticexpialid ocious."

Like I said, it was a piece of cake once I figured out what the password should be changed to. I still can't believe it took me over a week to think of that password. It should have been obvious from the get go.

"McGonagall's going to kill us," Fred whispered to his twin, thinking that I couldn't hear him.

"I can hear you, Bookend One," I informed him as I crossed another password off the list.

"Why does she call us Bookends?" George whispered to his brother.

"You know the reason why," I replied and crossed two more off the list.

"Slytherins. So rude," the twins replied in unison. I rolled my eyes.

"Gryffindors, so loud," I snapped back. "I can hear every word you're saying."

"You're also sitting between us," George replied.

"What's your point?" I asked with a shrug.

"Of course you can hear us," Fred said with a sigh. I didn't have a response to that so I said the only thing I could in that situation.

"Get back to work. We need to come up with a password before we get caught."

"You don't think this looks suspicious?" Fred asked. I shrugged.

"Why would I?" I asked.

"Us and you whispering quietly together?" George said sarcastically. "Nothing suspicious about that at all."

"It's not suspicious at all," I reassured them but instinctively flinched as I looked up and saw Madam Pince glaring at me. She's never been too fond of me. I'm not completely sure why.

"Why is this so hard?" I whined twenty minutes later. "It's a password for the Prefects' bathroom! A bathroom that makes getting clean as much fun as getting dirty!"

Fred and George cracked up laughing and one of them scribbled something on a piece of parchment.

"We found your password," they said in unison as the paper was pushed toward me. I glanced at it and grinned.

Makes getting clean as much fun as getting dirty

"Perfect!" I cheered loudly and flinched again as Madam Pince glared at me again. I rubbed my hands together with an evil grin.

"Okay, here's the plan of action. Tell as many people as you can that the password of the Prefects' bathroom is being changed and that the password will be handed out to everyone."

"And we're telling them the password right away?"

I gave George a horrified look.

"Of course not! They'll know when the password is being given."

"They will?" The Weasley twins looked skeptical. I nodded enthusiastically. I was already forming the plan in my mind. It was going to be spectacular. Students would be talking about this for years.

Fred and George still looked skeptical but took off with the new information. I trusted them to get word around. Gryffindors are good for that. After all, they're so loud.

Of course, the bad thing about loud cohorts is that even the professors became suspicious. Everywhere I went, there was a professor looking over my shoulder. I finally had to retreat to my dorm to carry out my plans!

I never spend any time in my dorm! It's full of evil things, like bras!

By the time dinner came around, it took all my self-control to not grin evilly and to not bounce out of my seat. I had things timed right for the middle of dinner, when everyone would be there.

It took forever.

But when the middle of dinner finally came around, it was totally worth it. By the middle of dinner, almost everyone in the entire school knew that something was up. They kept glancing at me and the Weasley twins, wondering when things were going to go down. Even the Weasley twins were looking at each other and me!

In the middle of dinner, the banner that hangs above the head table began flashing colors, drawing the attention of everyone in the Great Hall. Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall traded looks, wondering who would get blamed for this.

Once everyone was looking at the banner, words began forming on the now rainbow-colored banner. Slowly, it became readable.

Prefects' Bathroom Password—"Makes getting clean as much fun as getting dirty."

Courtesy of Fred, George, and Faye

The most important thing I learned that night—never sign your name on your work. It assigns instant blame and there's no getting out of it.

"It was just a joke! Calm your tits!" I protested as I was being dragged away by my ear by Professor Snape. Professor McGonagall had already dragged Fred and George away, lecturing as she went.

Definitely the worst thing to say to a man. I was lucky that I wasn't expelled on the spot.

"Detention!"


	36. Rule #37

Rule #37: There is no such thing as an Invisibility Thong

There's invisible cloaks and invisible hats and invisible eyes and invisible people and invisible everything! There should be an Invisibility Thong!

Unfortunately, the books and shop catalogs said otherwise. So I became determined that if there wasn't one in existence, I was going to create one.

Yes, that's right. I was going to make an Invisibility Thong.

Nothing could go wrong.

Right?

Unfortunately, that's never the way it works out for me. That should have been obvious. Otherwise there wouldn't be so many rules created specifically for me.

I lost count of how many thongs I wasted trying to get the Invisibility Charm to work. I think my mother was starting to be concerned how often that ended up on her grocery list. And of course I couldn't explain what I was doing. That would just end up with me getting grounded.

One of the things I learned in my experiments is that the people that make Invisibility cloaks are all smarty-pants and show-offs. It's not that easy to make things turn invisible. And once you do manage to turn them invisible, you have to make sure that you don't lose them. I learned that when I accidentally misplaced one of my successes and my dad tripped over it. I had a hard time talking my way out of that one. Thankfully my dad wasn't able to take off the Invisibility Charm and figure out what he tripped on. Then I definitely wouldn't have been able to talk my way out of punishment.

Once I figured out how to work the Invisibility Charm, I was able to make quite a few Invisibility Thongs. I didn't test them out right away because I wasn't that stupid. I would make other students try them out for me at Hogwarts. I'm sure I could convince a few.

Unfortunately my reputation preceded me. Even the Gryffindors that would test Fred and George's products refused to test my Invisibility Thongs!

"Please?" I begged.

"No," the first year backed away from me.

"Why not?"

"Because you have mean eyes!"

"Really?"

The first year nodded and ran off, practically in tears. I looked into the nearest window. Did I really have mean eyes? I hoped not. I liked looking like an angel. The last thing I wanted to do was become Madam Pince's clone. Talk about someone that has mean eyes…

"Hey, Lee! Want to try something for me?"

The Gryffindor looked skeptical and slightly afraid.

"Not really," he replied. I pouted.

"Why not?" I asked him.

"Because I already told Fred and George that I would be exclusive to their products."

Oh. So it was going to be like that.

"Well, if this works, I'm turning this product over to the two bookends," I lied smoothly, plastering a smile on my face. "So technically you would still be exclusive to their products."

Now I had Lee Jordan looking a bit more intrigued.

"Okay?" he said. "What is it?"

I held up the Invisible Thong and the boy gave me a strange look.

"Air?" he asked. "Your product is…air?"

I glared at him.

"No, it's an Invisibility Thong," I told him.

"What's an Invisibility Thong?" Lee Jordan asked.

"It's like a little hat," I lied and placed the thong on Lee Jordan's head. He reached up to feel it.

"There! Now you're invisible," I informed him, still lying through my teeth. I wondered how long it would take for the Gryffindor to realize that he was, in fact, not invisible.

A few hours later, I was mildly surprised to see that he was still wearing the Invisibility Thong and believing what I told him. I couldn't exactly see the thong itself but I could see the lines pressing into his forehead. I shook my head at the stupidity of some Gryffindors before piling my plate full of food. I was starving after taking the blame for TWO explosions in Potions class. I will admit that the first one was my fault but the second one was definitely not me. I wasn't even in the room! I was in the backroom, getting new ingredients because the first explosion had destroyed my entire station.

I was ready to enjoy a nice peaceful lunch but let's face it…meals at Hogwarts are never peaceful. Nothing is ever peaceful at Hogwarts.

Not with me around.

"Mate, what are you wearing?"

"What's on your head, Lee?"

I nearly choked on my pumpkin juice as I overheard the questions. I continued choking for a few minutes because none of the other Slytherins could be bothered to help me out. Self-interested gits…

Lee Jordan felt around his head and yanked off the Invisibility Thong that was no long invisible. Apparently Invisibility Charms have a time limit. Who knew?

The Gryffindor stared at the pair of panties in absolute horror. Unfortunately for him, Professor Snape passed by the Gryffindor table at that exact minute.

"Mr. Jordan, would you care to tell me why you have a pair of women's undergarments in your hands? And why they were previously on your head?" he drawled. I shrank in my seat as Lee Jordan began looking wildly around.

"She told me to!" he said, pointing in my direction. I shrank even further into my seat. "They're hers!"

"They're not mine!" I protested as Professor Snape looked in my direction and raised an eyebrow. He gave me a disbelieving look and I quickly retracted my previous claim. "I mean, they're mine but they're not mine, per say."

"How can they be yours but not yours?" Lee Jordan asked in disbelief. I tried correcting my statement.

"Yes, I gave them to him but I never actually wore them," I said. "I'm not that sick."

Several of the students snorted in disbelief. Professor Snape looked less than impressed by my explanatory skills.

"Why did you tell him to wear it on his head?" he asked. I shrugged.

"It was an Invisibility Thong," I said. "It wasn't supposed to become visible. It was just supposed to be a private joke"

"Sure it was…" Lee Jordan grumbled. Professor Snape sighed.

"Ten points to Slytherin for not lying," he said. I grinned. I actually won points! The Gryffindors protested at the blatant favoritism.

"But detention for playing pranks."


	37. Rule #38

Rule #38: Professor Flitwick does not wish to be addressed as "Admiral Naismith"

So I don't think it was the name "Admiral Naismith" that Professor Flitwick doesn't want to be known by. I think he was just tired of me calling him a bunch of different names.

Because if you haven't noticed by now, I have something against calling people by their actual names. It's just so boring! There's nothing original about first names. Do you know how many Georges and Williams and Franks and Elizabeths and Mariannas and Maries and Sarahs there are?

Too damn many in my opinion. And yes, the French was necessary. I like talking French. It makes me feel sophisticated and grown-up and makes people give me offended looks.

Both of my parents told me multiple times growing up that if I couldn't find a job in the wizarding world that I should become a sailor. It's been their worst idea yet. I get horribly seasick. I can't even look at a boat without wanting to puke up my insides. Third year was torture.

Damn Durmstrang students. They just had to arrive by boat. Boats are too overrated. They should have taken a plane instead. Who cares if their magic would have interfered with the plane's mechanics and would have probably crashed the plane. They had a one percent chance of success! They should have tried for that one percent!

Anyway, Professor Flitwick is one of those professors where he can't just have one nickname. He needs multiple nicknames.

"Prof!"

"Wickflit!"

"Flitters!"

"Wickers!"

"Would you please work on summoning your pillow?" Professor Flitwick looked faintly irritated as he stood on top of his pile of books.

"Sure thing, Flitty!"

Professor Flitwick glared at me. His glare didn't bother me at all. Professor Snape's glares didn't bother me by this point so why should Professor Flitwick's? When Professor Snape glares, a kitten falls from the top of a ten-story building. When Professor Flitwick glares, a person steps on an ant. See the difference?

"Baggins, the pillow won't come to me!" I whined a few minutes later.

"That's because you're not using your wand. You're just holding out your hand, waiting for the pillow to come to you," Professor Flitwick said with a sigh.

"I said the spell like an hour ago, Pippin," I said with a sigh. "It hasn't moved an inch. I think this spell is broken. Merry, you should work on fixing it. I want to take a nap!"

"Repeat the spell and my name is none of those things. Call me Professor Flitwick or I'll give you a detention."

The class gasped at the threat. Professor Flitwick handing out a detention was practically unheard of. He must have been particularly crabby that day.

"Will do, Admiral Naismith!" I said with a salute. I don't know why I called him Admiral Naismith. It was just the first thing that came to my mind. Almost immediately my fellow Slytherins groaned and hit their heads against their desks.

"Detention!"


	38. Rule #39

Rule #39: Asking "How do you keep a Gryffindor in suspense?" and walking away is only funny the first time.

It shouldn't surprise you that I'm the type of person that overuses a joke. I do hilarious stuff. I don't say hilarious stuff. I'll leave that to the professionals. Especially that dead terrorist dude. I'm pretty positive that he's the only person that can say "I keel you!" and get away without being arrested.

So, when I learn a joke, I use every opportunity I can to tell it. Some Slytherins still whimper years later whenever I start a sentence with "A wizard, a troll, and a werewolf walk into a bar."

And I learned that joke during first year.

There were also a few months when my parents insisted on living by candlelight because they refused to buy any more light bulbs. They were sick of me taking the light bulbs out of the lamps and walking into a room with the bulbs in my mouth proclaiming, "Look, a light snack."

My grandparents weren't too happy when I tried doing the same thing at their place. Of course, they hate anything that originated from Muggles. Dad had to literally shove them into the retirement facility. Now they get their kicks from cheating at Bingo. I hope Bingo is still around when I'm their age because I really want to follow in their footsteps.

I got this idea from a shirt I saw in London over the summer. On the front it read, How do you keep an idiot occupied? (See back of shirt) and on the back it read, How do you keep an idiot occupied? (See front of shirt).

It took me an hour or so to figure it out. When I finally did, my mom bought me the shirt as a present. I wore it almost every single day during the summer.

I was going to do a similar joke to the Gryffindors as a going away present but things went differently than I expected.

"Hey! Girl Weasley!" I called as the Slytherins and Gryffindors in our year began making their way from the Great Hall to the dungeons for Potions.

"What?"

"How do you keep a Gryffindor in suspense?" I asked her. The Girl Weasley shrugged. I opened my mouth to say the second part of the joke but I just blanked. It was like I was taking an exam.

After a few seconds, it became apparent to me that I wasn't going to remember the second half of the joke. Instead, I just walked away.

It worked up better than I thought. The Slytherins cracked up at the look on Girl Weasley's face. Apparently she was still waiting for my response.

"So there's hope for you yet," one of my housemates told me as we sat down to wait for Professor Snape. I smiled brightly. People were finally appreciating my jokes, despite it being the wrong joke.

And of course, like any other joke, I had to overuse it.

The next day we had Care of Magical Creatures with the Gryffindors. Colin Creevey was my next victim.

"Hey Colin!" I called. Girl Weasley looked vaguely peeved in the distance at the fact that I used his name but could barely remember hers.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"How do you keep a Gryffindor in suspense?" I asked him. He gave me a curious look and after a few seconds, I walked away. A few of the Slytherins laughed but most just rolled their eyes.

The next day it was the same thing. I picked out a Gryffindor, asked them "How do you keep a Gryffindor in suspense?" and walked away after a few seconds. The Gryffindors in my year caught on pretty quick. I blame Girl Weasley and Creevey. They aren't exactly the best at keeping secrets, I've learned over the years.

Except for the Chamber of Secrets thing in our first year. Trust me, no one saw that coming. I'm pretty impressed that Girl Weasley was able to pull it off, possessed or not possessed.

"Hey, Potter!" I called a few weeks later when I saw the boy in the hallway. Immediately the Slytherins around me edged away, knowing what was coming. Most of them rolled their eyes. A few sighed and cringed.

"What?" he asked crankily. I put on an offended look.

"Don't take that tone with me," I told him. "Otherwise, I won't tell you my joke."

Potter sighed.

"What is it?" he asked. I grinned widely.

"How do you keep a Gryffindor in suspense?" I asked.

"By walking away," he replied. My eyes widened.

"How did you know that?" I demanded, putting my hands on my hips.

"Everyone does by now," he replied. "The only Gryffindor that probably doesn't by this point is Professor McGonagall."

My eyes narrowed.

Well, that would have to change. I couldn't have that at all.

Therefore I made it my mission after classes to hunt down Professor McGonagall. I finally found her just as she was about to walk into the staff room, Professor Snape just in front of her.

"Hey Crazy Cat Lady!" I called. Professor Snape cringed. "How do you keep a Gryffindor in suspense?"

As I walked away to complete the joke, I glanced back. Professor Snape was shaking his head. Professor McGonagall looked furious.

"Detention!"


	39. Rule #4 0& #41

Rule #40: I will not offer to pose nude for Colin Creevey.

Rule #41: I will not offer to pose nude for Dean Thomas

Yes, I know that nude photos and pictures are controversial but I didn't think they were that controversial. Just look at the United States after all. They broadcast a fashion show on live TV that features lingerie for crying out loud! How is that much better?

Not to mention, I go to a school for young witches and wizards. Isn't that already controversial? After all, weren't Muggles trying to burn our kind alive just a few centuries ago? I really don't think that the professors need to be concerned about controversy.

It shouldn't be a surprise to anyone that I've made nude pictures before. Of course, clothes never look right on stick figures. It looks like a pencil wearing a plastic bag.

I used my naked stick figures a lot for my essays first year for Lockhart's class. He was always very appreciative of my drawings. I tried to reuse them for Professor McGonagall's class but she said that it was just a waste of room on the parchment. Needless to say, I preferred Professor Lockhart at that moment and stormed off to go complain to him about the lack of appreciation for my art.

Another thing about art—wizarding art is so dull. It's dull, dull, DULL!

Yes, things move. And sometimes talk. But that's it. It's just magical creatures and people that have already died. There's nothing magical about the art itself. There's no fantasy depictions, no landscapes, not even a picture of the Doctor and the TARDIS! And I thought those were everywhere!

After a few years at Hogwarts, I was sick of looking at the same types of paintings and drawings so I decided to take matters into my own hands.

It started off with me drawing stick figures on the desks and walls when I was bored during class. I loved making them look as similar to the drawings that scientists find on cave walls, especially when I was drawing them in the dungeons.

Naturally, Professor Snape wasn't happy when he discovered my drawings. He doesn't appreciate true art, either. That was an ongoing battle between us. He would discover a drawing, give me detention and force me to clean it up, and I would make a new drawing the next day. He tried everything and he still couldn't prevent my stick figures from showing up. If I didn't have anything to draw, I would scratch the designs into the desk with my nails. It was horrible for my nails but a lovely improvement for the castle.

Sadly, stick figures can never be enough. Not for someone like me, anyway. That's why I decided to bring the two most talented people in Hogwarts together to create real art—Dean Thomas and Colin Creevey. The fact that they were both Gryffindors didn't even dissuade me.

"Here's the plan," I said, sitting down in front of them. We were at the first meeting of Artists Anonymous. There were only three of us but hey, you know about the Golden Trio. Great things can be achieved with just three people. "This castle needs art—art only people of our talents can create."

"You're an artist?" Dean Thomas asked. I glared at him.

"Of course I am," I said with a sniff. "Haven't you seen those stick figures all around the castle?"

"That was you?" Colin asked. I nodded and Dean smirked.

"I know about those. Whenever I find one, I make them better."

I scowled at the older Gryffindor.

"Like I said, this castle needs real art," I said, ignoring the jibe. "Mouse-boy is taking the pictures, Mr. I'm-the-Best is doing the drawing, and I'm providing the muse."

"How will you be able to provide me with muse?" Dean Thomas asked skeptically. I smirked a true Slytherin's smirk.

"I'm a girl," I said. "Everyone knows that a muse always comes from a woman."

"There's a big difference between a girl and a woman," the Gryffindor muttered. I glared at him.

"We have the same body parts," I snapped. "Now shut up and draw me like one of your French girls."

With that I opened my robes and let them slide to the floor. Creevey turned an ugly shade of red and nearly dropped his camera. Dean Thomas smirked.

"Definitely the same body parts," he agreed. The younger Gryffindor gulped and shot out of the room.

"NAKED GIRL!" he yelled as he ran down the hallway. "IT'S DISGUSTING!"

Huh. Who knew that the stereotype of artists being gay could actually be true?

And that's how Colin Creevey came out.

And that's how Professor Flitwick, patrolling the hallways, nearly became a puddle of embarrassment.

"PUT ON YOUR ROBES!" he shouted as he came into the room. "DETENTION FOR BOTH OF YOU!"


	40. Rule #42

Rule #42: 42 is not the answer to every question on the O.W.L.s

Just to clarify, I didn't actually fail my O.W.L.s. I actually passed most of them. I got an O in Potions. I think Professor Snape was happy that he was no longer teaching that class, judging by the look he had on his face when he walked into Professor Slughorn's N.E.W.T. level class and saw me there.

I think he was even more relieved he didn't have to deal with me in Potions anymore when my cauldron exploded minutes after walking into the classroom.

Fifth year was awesome for the most part. I mean, how could it not be? Professor Snape was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts!

It was about time. Slytherin house gave him a standing ovation when he walked into the common room that night to relay the rules of Slytherin house to the first years. I think we embarrassed him, judging by the redness of his face.

It was that or Potter had aggravated him again.

Or he really, really had to go to the bathroom.

The practice exams for the O.W.L.s were so pointless. They were multiple choice, after all. This is Hogwarts. We never get multiple-choice questions on our exams. It's either essay questions or practical exams, where we have to try and attempt to show our professors what we've learned without blowing anything up. Trust me, it's a lot harder than it seems. All those eyes on you! Judging everything you do!

Whoever thought of practical exams should be taken out back and fed to Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts. I know he has one somewhere on castle grounds. I'm sure it's hungry by now.

I'll also feed to the Blast-Ended Skrewt the person who decided that it was a good idea to make all exams on the same week. The only time something like that should be allowed is if you need to torture someone. I personally feel that multiple exams in one day is one of the best torture tactics out there. Screw waterboarding! Forget the Judas Cradle! Who cares about the Lead Sprinkler! Just give someone multiple exams and they'll crack within hours.

And yes, I know it's very disturbing that I know about different types of torture. But I served detention with Professor Snape on a regular basis. What else can you expect?

Naturally, Professor McGonagall was a fan of the practice O.W.L.s. I think we did one of those. Every. Single. Week. I wanted to dig knives into my eyes by the fourth week. By the sixth week, I was willing to put myself on the rack before having to take another one of those practice tests.

They were so boring!

I had to keep myself occupied somehow.

It had nothing to do with the fact that I hadn't studied.

What is the spell that allows one to transform a rat into a goblet?

After staring at the question, I had no clue. So I put my failsafe answer under the multiple-choice answers—42

How does one make a hedgehog into a pincushion?

42

What is the incantation used to transfigure a beetle into a button?

42

I went on like that for the rest of the class period. Professor McGonagall collected the practice tests shortly before the bell rang for break. She seemed surprised that I finished the test on time. I was slightly offended. I know I'm a slow test-taker but the fact that I finished on time doesn't automatically mean that I cheated!

That only happened once.

ONCE!

Suspicious, Professor McGonagall flipped through my test. She sighed as she saw the first 42 answer and her scowl kept growing with each one she discovered. By the end of the fifty-question test, I think her scowl was permanently etched on her face.

Like those faces on Mount Rushmore. That's how permanent it was.

"Can't you ever take something seriously for once?" she asked. She didn't give me time to respond. "Detention."


	41. Rule #43

Rule #43: It is a bad idea to tell Professor McGonagall she takes herself too seriously.

I think I should correct this rule. This is not just a bad idea. It's a REALLY bad idea. A horrible idea. A terrible idea on epic proportions.

Of course I said it. If it's one thing I've learned over the years about myself is that I'm very fond of bad ideas and it usually ends up with me getting detention or getting sent to the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey has told me multiple times that thinking is bad for my health, because it always leads to bad ideas. I could have told her that. I've had so many broken bones that the statistics are actually kind of amusing.

Nowhere near as amusing as the time when Social Services came to my house when I was ten because I had just come back from the hospital after my seventh broken bone. They didn't want to believe that I was really that accident-prone until they saw me run into a glass door and set the stove on fire. Long story short, the stove exploded because my dad's wand was too close to it, a Ministry Squad was called in to obliviate everyone, and I had to tell my parents before I did anything until I went to Hogwarts the next year.

Like I said, it was amusing.

And for anyone wondering, the number of broken bones has been upped from seven to twelve—two wrists, one ankle, one shoulder, three ribs, one leg, one nose, two arms, one jaw, and a fractured skull.

It takes talent.

Anyways, back to the rule and bad ideas.

This originally started out as a dare among Slytherins. I never turn down a dare, even when I know it's a bad idea. And dares among Slytherins are always bad ideas.

"Has anyone ever seen McGonagall smile or laugh at something that wasn't done by a Gryffindor? And when she wasn't drunk?" A Slytherin asked one night in the common room. After some thinking, it was apparent that in fact, no one had ever seen her smile.

"She favors her lions too much," Pansy Parkinson sneered. "If you aren't a lion, there's no way she'll like you. And if you're a snake like us, she won't even tolerate you."

"We can change that," a younger Slytherin offered.

"Why would we do something like that?" Draco Malfoy sneered. The younger Slytherin shrugged.

"Because there's nothing else to do?"

Baby Slytherin had a point. We were currently in one of our boring seasons at Hogwarts. They never last long but when they're boring, they're Boring. With the capital "B."

And so it began.

I really wonder what Professor McGonagall thought while this was going on. After all, she was confronted with tie-dyed rabbits and birds that molted silverware instead of feathers. That had to be funny…

Right?

Yeah, it wasn't that easy. None of the Slytherins managed to make her smile. They just got detention instead.

That's when I was forced to step up.

And you know the saying—"Go big or go home."

So I went big.

Elephant-size big.

"Are those elephants?"

Professor McGonagall looked stunned.

I nodded with a wide smile on my face.

"Yep! Elephants juggling chainsaws! Talented, aren't they?"

She gave me a disbelieving look.

"How did you get elephants in the castle?" she asked. I grinned.

"Peeves helped me! He distracted Filch!"

Professor McGonagall sighed. I was disappointed that she only looked surprised and that there was no smile on her face. I clapped my hands and promptly a group of monkeys, all wearing angel wings, jumped on top of the elephants and started doing the Macarena.

Still nothing. The other students in the class were laughing or looking very impressed. Professor McGonagall just sighed and shook her head. I frowned and stomped my foot.

"Smile," I told her.

"What?"

"Smile," I repeated.

"Why?"

"Because I want to win the bet! Now smile, dammit!"

With those words, I stood up on my tiptoes and pushed her lips up into a smile. She glared at me and I growled.

"Honestly, woman. You take yourself way too seriously sometimes. Would it kill you to smile?"

Professor McGonagall jerked her head away.

"You want to see my favorite kind of joke?" she asked. I nodded.

"You have detention. With Filch. Cleaning the Owlery. With a toothbrush."

And that's exactly what I did all day Saturday, with her standing over me with a wide smile on her face.

"You still take yourself too seriously," I muttered under my breath. Professor McGonagall grinned even wider and she practically sang her next words.

"Detention next Saturday!"


	42. Rule #44

Rule #44: I will not owl copies of the Evil Overlord List to suspected Death Eaters

What do Death Eaters do when there's no Dark Lord? I really want to know. This question has been plaguing me for years! Years I tell you!

Seriously, do they go to Evil Minions Anonymous? Or is there a Sunday lunch group that discusses all of the evil things they'll do over the next week?

I can just imagine.

"I'm Lucius Malfoy and it'll be my goal to issue everyone I see at least one death threat this week."

"My name is Bellatrix Lestrange and I'm going to orphan every little child I see. Those itty bitty babies!"

"I'm Crabbe and I'm going to feed rat poison to puppies."

"I'm Goyle and I'm also going to feed rat poison to puppies."

"My name isss Nagini and I sssshall sssswallow Wormtail whole."

"Hi. I'm er—Wormtail and I-I'll…wait, what?"

Those would be fun lunches to sit in on. And since I'm a Slytherin, I'd have an easier time of getting invited. Only benefit to being in Slytherin.

Well, that and being able to cause little kids to cry by pulling a face. I love being thought of the next most horrifying thing to walk the planet since Lord Voldemort and a pissed off Wildmage that has the ability to raise dinosaurs from the dead.

But seriously, do Death Eaters even have jobs? Besides Lucius Malfoy I mean. Well—wait. I'm not even sure that manipulating Cornelius Fudge and the entire wizarding world can even be considered a job. I should make it my next mission to break into the Ministry of Magic and check their payroll to see if he's getting paid to do that. Because if he is, they seriously need to start looking for other candidates.

Just my opinion.

I never thought that this would get taken as seriously as it did. It started off as a joke in my second year. Of course, I underestimated my professors. I tend to do that. Maybe it's because they look so old. Their oldness makes it hard to believe that they can keep up with us youngsters.

For the record, I'm leaving Professor Snape out of the old category. I was shocked to find out how young he actually was. Well, compared to Dumbledore and Trelawney anyway.

My teachers were in shock while this was going on. I had decided to hand write all the letters and the list and most of the writing took place during class. To the teachers, it just looked like I was taking notes.

Silly teachers. I never take notes. It's too much effort.

They had no clue as to what was actually going on. They probably wouldn't have had a clue but I sent the list out to all suspected Death Eaters, no matter how old they were. Even Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape.

Yes, I know Draco was only thirteen at the time but he had potential even back then. Sadly, he had to go whining to Professor Snape who then knew that something was up because he had received the same list.

I was in the common room playing Exploding Snap when Professor Snape stormed in.

"You!" he snarled, pointing in my direction. "Come with me!"

And like every second year, I obeyed immediately.

"What did I do this time?" I asked him.

"You're not denying that you did something?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I do a lot of things," I admitted. "I eat all three meals, I brush my teeth, I put rats in other students' beds—"

"That was you?" I nodded.

"So what did I do?" I asked. Professor Snape presented me with my Evil Overlord list.

For all Death Eaters looking for jobs, here's a list of Evil Overlords that are hiring.

Lord Voldemort

Grindelwald

Lucifer

Davy Jones

The Master

The Daleks and/or the Cybermen

Albus Dumbledore

Jaws

Lilith

Faye (please send return owl)

"Oh," I said.

"Oh?" Professor Snape asked. I nodded.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"When can I start expecting applications?" I asked. His eye twitched and he pointed at the door.

"Go. Detention tomorrow night. I don't want to see you until then."

"That might be kind of hard, considering I have Potions with you tomorrow morning."

"Double detention!"


	43. Rule #45

Rule #45: I will not offer to prepare tandoori owl

Owls are vicious creatures. They have the talons and the beaks and the eyes and the creepy twisty neck. Their whole appearance screams vicious.

Not to mention owls are petty and a little bit stuck-up. And surprisingly human-like. Scarily human-like.

That's why it makes sense that they should be taken down a peg or two. Only humans are allowed to be human-like. No one else can do it better than a human. Not even an alien that looks like a human.

And what's the best way of taking down someone a peg or two?

By threatening to eat them, of course! Wouldn't you be frightened if someone threatened to eat you and then do whatever they say to stop them from doing said eating?

I know I would.

Actually, scratch that. I have. My father found out that I was scared of cannibals and used that to his advantage. If there was the slightest hint that I was going to cause trouble or be a pain in the arse, he would threaten to eat me.

It actually worked quite well until I figured out that he was joking and that my mother actually wouldn't let him follow through on such threats.

It was the most peaceful five hours of my parents' lives. They actually got to see what it would have been like had I been a normal child.

I suppose this would have worked out better had I not been in the Owlery surrounded by hundreds of owls when I decided to make my threats. Yes, it sounds like a good idea to make your threat in one central location, where all the parties involve can hear you, but that's only effective when the other party doesn't have weapons.

And yes, the talons and beaks definitely qualify as weapons. There's no other word.

The threat-making started off with the normal death stare contests, which the owls obviously won. Of course they would win a staring contest. The only creatures owls lose to in staring contests are cats.

And my fellow Slytherins always wonder why I bring a cat to the Owlery. Idiots…I have to win. Slytherins win, no matter what!

After the staring contest, I decided to make my threats.

"Listen up!" I told the owls. The Hufflepuff in the Owlery gave me a strange look before leaving as quickly as possible. I suppose he assumed that this conversation should be private.

"You need to stop acting human-like. You're animals! You shouldn't know what humans are saying! You shouldn't be able to find a person anyplace in the world. Especially you, Hedwig. You take it to a beyond creepy level. I don't want an owl spying on me wherever I go."

There was a loud hoot. I glared at the offending owl.

"Yes, I know that it makes you useless but let's face it—owls are wild creatures. Your species and my species were never meant to work together like humans and dogs."

I took a deep breath, reaching the end of my lecture.

"So, I'm going to make it simple for both of us. Stop acting like humans and getting along with us, and I won't make tandoori owl or owl lo mein or fried owl. Capiche?"

"What are you doing?" I jumped. The Hufflepuff had returned, with Professor Sprout behind him. I grinned sheepishly.

"Making a deal?" I offered as an excuse. I heard a ruffling of wings and instinctively ducked. It was a good thing I did, because Professor Sprout and the Hufflepuff got a faceful of owls. That could have been me!

The Hufflepuff screamed, throwing off the owls and began running down the Owlery stairs. I winced as he tripped and landed in a pile of those pellets that owls love to upchuck. Disgusting….

Professor Sprout glanced at him and glared at me. I grinned even more sheepishly.

"At least they listened to me?"

"DETENTION!"


	44. Rule #46

Rule #46: I will stop asking when we will make "Love Potion Number Nine"

I was lucky to only get a detention out of this. After this all went down, everyone told me I was lucky that Professor Snape hadn't force-fed me poison, like he would have with a student from any other house. Thankfully, it would have been bad form to poison one of the Slytherins in his care.

Actually, everything makes sense now. No wonder I never got expelled! Professor Snape couldn't, under good conscience, expel a Slytherin! And a girl at that! It would have been scandalous.

I have a new appreciation for being a Slytherin.

And like all Slytherins, I hate the other houses. Even Ravenclaws. Especially idiotic Ravenclaws.

Like Gilderoy Lockhart. He's responsible for this detention. He gave me the idea! I was just an innocent little first year that didn't know any better!

And yes, this might be the reason for my anti-Valentine's day sentiments. Stupid Lockhart. He ruined a perfectly good holiday…

"Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion?"

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Looking back, not so much. Not only did I want to see Professor Snape's reaction to being asked how to make a love potion, but it also got an ancient song stuck in my head. And I mean ancient. Like prehistoric ancient.

I didn't even know music existed back then. Sure, there was Elvis but I thought he was just a guy with funny hair and weird fashion sense. Honestly, with fashion sense like that, I'm amazed that he was just a Muggle and not a wizard trying to pass as a Muggle. Can someone say plot twist?

So that's why I was walking down the halls, singing under my breath.

"I took my troubles down to Madame Rue

You know that gypsy with the gold-capped tooth

She's got a pad down on Thirty-Fourth and Vine

Sellin' little bottles of Love Potion Number Nine"

"You sound like a dying cow," Pansy Parkinson sneered as she passed me in the middle of the halls. She was in 'Queen Bitch' mode. Us Slytherins got used to it pretty quickly.

"You look like a dying cow," I replied and continued singing on my way to Potions class.

" I told her that I was a flop with chics

I've been this way since 1956

She looked at my palm and she made a magic sign

She said "What you need is Love Potion Number Nine"

I sung the last lines as I walked into the Potions classroom. Girl Weasley looked around from her spot at the desk. She was looking rather nervous.

"Who's dying?" she asked. I sniffed.

"No one's dying," I snapped. "I'm just singing."

"Is that what it was? That's as close to singing as a fish is to walking through a desert."

I glared at her.

"I have a wonderful singing voice. My mummy told me so."

"Your mummy?" Girl Weasley looked amused.

"Yes, my mummy. Don't be jealous just because your mother never told you that she liked your singing."

Before Girl Weasley could retort, I started singing again.

"She bent down and turned around and gave me a wink

She said "I'm gonna make it up right here in the sink"

It smelled like turpentine, it looked like Indian ink

I held my nose, I closed my eyes, I took a drink"

The students entering the classroom all winced. Okay, so I may have been a little off-key. Just a little! I ignored them. I was close to the end of the song so they could hold their praise for a little while longer. I faked playing the guitar as well to liven things up.

"I didn't know if it was day or night

I started kissin' everything in sight

But when I kissed a cop down on Thirty-Fourth and Vine

He broke my little bottle of Love Potion Number Nine

I held my nose, I closed my eyes, I took a drink

I didn't know if it was day or night

I started kissin' everything in sight

But when I kissed a cop down on Thirty-Fourth and Vine

He broke my little bottle of Love Potion Number Nine"

"This is a classroom, not a place for singing absurd songs. If you must sing with no talent, do it elsewhere. Might I recommend Professor Lockhart's office? He wouldn't know talent if it was in front of him."

I grinned up at Professor Snape, who had entered the classroom in the midst of my singing.

"I'm done," I told him.

"Thank Merlin for that," Professor Snape muttered under his breath. "Now—"

I cut him off by raising my hand.

"I have a question!"

"You don't even know what we're doing yet."

I shrugged.

"I still have a question," I said. Professor Snape sighed.

"What?" he asked in his 'dangerous' voice. I grinned widely. Professor Snape looked like he was regretting letting me ask this question as I stood up on my chair.

"When will we be making—" I took a deep breath and prepared to belt the last few words. "LLLOOOOVVVEEE PPPOOOOTTTIIIOOONNN NNNUUUMMMBBBEERR NNNIINNNEEE?"

"In detention. Now sit down and stop singing!"


	45. Rule #47

Rule #47: I will not ask Professor Dumbledore to show me the pointy hat trick

Unlike certain Slytherins—coughDracoMalfoycough—I actually think Professor Dumbledore is a pretty awesome guy. Not everyone can pull off that sense of style, after all. And trust me, people have tried.

Like that Gandalf guy. Seriously, what is up with him? Is he trying to pretend to be Dumbledore? Because he's not fooling anyone.

And Dumbledore always looks so neatly dressed. Never a speck of dirt or a wrinkle. I honestly don't know how he does it. It's amazing, especially considering that I'm the type of person that doesn't even own clothes that aren't wrinkled, or torn, or stained. It drives my mother insane.

Especially when she sees my robes. She just can't comprehend how I can have black ink stains on the seat of my black robes.

But that's what happens when you don't look where you sit at breakfast on April Fool's day. Especially when the bench had just been occupied by the Weasley twins, who then scampered off to an unknown location in a hurry. Rumor has it that they let a dog loose in Professor McGonagall's office.

Let me just say that doing so was a bad idea when Professor McGonagall was in her cat form. They had scratches all over their bodies, not to mention a few bites from the dogs.

Fricking hilarious.

I can live with the stains. I can live with the wrinkles. I can live with the tears and the ripped hems. However, what I absolutely cannot deal with is A. Floppy. Hat. If you're going to force students into those abomination of hats, at least make sure that the tips don't constantly fall down in front of our faces and then show us Professor Dumbledore, with his perfect robes and his perfect pointy hat.

It never occurred to me that the phrase "pointy hat" could be taken in another direction. The things you learn at Christmas feasts at Hogwarts…

For example, Professor McGonagall is scary when she laughs. And Professor Flitwick pretends that he's a ten-foot giant in his free time.

My second year, I was fortunate (or unfortunate, depending on whom you ask) enough to be seated next to Professor Dumbledore during the Christmas feast. My parents were off visiting relatives that I didn't particularly want to see because, really, who wants to deal with uppity Muggles?

Of course, I could only sit next to Professor Dumbledore as long as I promised Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall to be on my best behavior. Silly professors. I'm always on my best behavior. It's just that the word "best" is relative and its definition depends on the day.

"You know, you're a pretty cool guy," I told Professor Dumbledore between courses as I grabbed a handful of wizard crackers. I hiccupped between words. That may or may not have been due to the fact that I had convinced the house-elves to slip some firewhiskey into the drinks.

"Why thank you," Professor Dumbledore said. "I've heard a lot of stories about you."

"Stories? I'm in a book?" I asked in amazement. Professor Snape let out a silent groan and eyed the drinks warily. Dammit. He had caught on.

"The rule book," Professor McGonagall muttered under her breath. I hiccupped again.

"Are you in a book, Professor Dumbledore?" I asked.

"Many," the older wizard replied. "It's actually quite boring."

"Are your pictures in those books?" I asked. "Because I only read picture books."

"That explains so much," Professor Snape muttered. I glared at him before hiccupping again.

"You're so mean," I whined. "I'm only trying to make conversation. I'm still on my best behavior, just like I promised."

Professor Snape apparently he didn't care that the drinks were spiked, as his response was to down an entire goblet of pumpkin juice in one swallow.

"I believe my pictures are in those books," Professor Dumbledore said, ignoring the whole side conversation.

"With your super pointy hat?" I asked. Professor McGonagall snorted into her pudding while Professor Dumbledore nodded.

"Then I gots a question for you." I said. "How do you make your hat so pointy?"

Professor Snape grimaced as most of the table cracked up laughing.

"Stop," he demanded. I pouted and tugged on Professor Dumbledore's sleeve.

"Sir, can you show my the pointy hat trick? I want to know how to make my hat pointy and firm and straight, just like yours."

Professor McGonagall fell out of her chair. Professor Dumbledore flushed. Professor Snape downed another goblet of pumpkin juice before glaring at me.

"Detention once classes start," he ordered.


	46. Rule #48

Rule #48: I will not teach the first years to sing "A Wizard's Staff Has A Knob On The End"

Oh, little gullible first years. I remember when I was one. That was back when professors had no idea who I was and didn't automatically give me a detention upon sight.

Those were good days. I miss those days, just like I miss Tom & Jerry, the Powerpuff Girls, Dexter's Lab, and all of those wonderful shows. Those were the days when I was naïve and carefree and innocent in the ways of the world.

Okay, maybe not innocent. But I like to believe I was.

One year, while on the train, I decided I wanted to start the year off with a bang. Of course, that may have had something to do with the fact that I was in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express with a couple of first years. All the other students tended to avoid me on the train but no one ever bothered to tell the first years about me, unless they had an older sibling at Hogwarts.

Listening to the first years, it was quite amusing to hear the speculations about Hogwarts. They wanted to know everything about everything. I loved giving them misconceptions, especially about the Sorting.

Not my fault they believed they would really have to tackle the Giant Squid or drink a gallon of unicorn's blood.

"We have to boil a baby in a cauldron?"

Or that they would have to boil a baby in a cauldron.

"Sure, but that's the boring part," I told them. "The best part about the whole night is when we sing the school song."

"There's a school song?"

I honestly don't know why they seemed so surprised. Hogwarts is a normal school, after all. Well, minus the whole magic thing.

And the ghost thing.

And the moving staircases.

And the fact that the school was in an actual castle.

Okay, so maybe Hogwarts isn't so normal.

"What's the school song?" One of the first years sharing the compartment with me asked. I grinned.

"I'll teach it to you," I said and beckoned them closer. "Can't have our ickle Firsties not knowing the famous Hogwarts school song, after all."

And that's how I kept myself occupied for the rest of the train ride. I'm still amazed that a Prefect didn't overhear what we were planning.

That night, after the feast, Professor Dumbledore prepared to lead the school in the Hogwarts song. I tried to slip out of the room, but Professor Snape's glare held me in place. He was in one of those moods where he constantly suspected that I was up to something.

He gets in those moods a lot, I've realized. And usually they're pretty accurate because ninety percent of the time, I was actually plotting something.

It's like he can read minds!

I was lucky that the first years I was with were too dense to realize that the words in the air were the actual school song. They just sang the words I taught them

"A wizard's staff has a knob on the end

It never will buckle; it never will bend

He cherishes it, and he calls it his friend,

And he frequently takes it in hand."

Immediately the professors were on their feet and rushing over.

"A wizard's staff is the source of his power.

He checks up on it every hour on the hour

And he's never surprised when it turns to a flower -

The fairest throughout all the land."

The rest of the school was quieting down as they listened to the first years sing. I was doubled over, trying not to laugh.

"The staff of a wizard with honour is crowned.

Without it a wizard will rarely be found.

'Tis big and its round and weighs three to the pound

And without it he's truly unmanned.

The staff of a wizard can do mighty deeds.

It protects him from harm and attends to his needs,

Provides him with banquets upon which he feeds

And potions on which he gets canned."

I didn't realize that Professor Snape had also gotten up. The rest of the school flinched as he stormed down the aisles between the tables

"Whenever a wizard is lonely or sad,

Or feeling dejected, or puzzled, or mad,

He turns to his staff, and things don't seem so bad -

By it he is never trepanned.

The staff of a wizard is dear to his heart

The source and the succour of his magic art.

They travel together, are never apart,

A relationship few understand.

A wizard is rarely of heroic build

Were it not for his staff, he would surely be killed.

By demons or monsters his blood would be spilled

All over the pitiless sand."

I jumped as Professor Snape's hand landed on my shoulder. He definitely mastered the art of walking silently. I shook with silent laughter as I listened to the continued singing of the ickle Firsties.

"A wizard in thought, word, and deed should be chaste

If he is not, he's considered disgraced.

Although in his dreams he is often embraced

By ladies both lissome and tanned.

The staff of a wizard is polished with care.

He anoints it with spices and unguents rare,

Bedecks it with silver and jewels most fair,

And on feast days he has it japanned."

"I know you're behind this," Professor Snape hissed as the other professors tried to stop the first years from singing. I admired their tenacity.

" A wizard when young has a staff that is small.

It's puny and weak, ineffective withal.

It grows with his power until it stands tall

As his fame and his glory expand.

The staff of a wizard can hold many spells

For finding lost objects or dowsing new wells

For banishing demons to bottomless hells

Or bringing them back on demand."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I managed to squeak out before dissolving into laughter again. Professor Snape's glare intensified.

"A wizard's staff can do manifold tricks

To puzzle the nobles and fuddle the hicks

It rescues the wizard from many a fix -

It is totally at his command.

*When a wizard is old, and is starting to fade

He looks on his staff that with cunning he made

The crown of his life and the tool of his trade

And together they make their last stand."

Naturally the first years stopped as Professor Snape opened his mouth to speak. Damn first years. They just had to make sure everyone in the entire school heard that one word.

"Detention."


	47. Rule #49

Rule #49: If Ginny Weasley wanted to borrow my Darkover books, she would have said so already.

I totally blame Girl Weasley for this. If she hadn't opened her loud mouth and been a loud Gryffindor, this rule wouldn't have existed.

Loud Girl Weasley. What is it with the color red and people being loud? People that wear blue or green aren't loud. Same with people that wear black or white or gray or purple or light pink. It's really just the people with red…or yellow or orange or bright pink.

Notice how the colors are related?

Why is red so loud?

Probably because the Weasleys have claimed it as their color.

Oh! That's the answer! I came up with the answer all by myself! I'm so proud of myself right now! Coming up with answers all by my lonesome is a definite rarity. Just ask any of my classmates.

It started off innocently enough. I lent a book to Luna, who then lent it to Girl Weasley. Why Girl Weasley didn't ask me directly is beyond me.

So rude.

And loud.

Can't forget loud. Remember, red equals loud. Stupid Gryffindors.

However, since Girl Weasley read one of my books, I figured that she would be interested in some of my other books.

I also figured that I would offer them to her so she didn't continue borrowing them from Luna. It was only polite.

"Hey, Girl Weasley, do you want to borrow my Tamora Pierce books? They're pretty amazing and one of the heroines is a ginger just like you! Granted, she's much cooler because she can fight with a sword but she's still a ginger!"

"No," Ginny mumbled, burrowing her nose in the book in front of her.

"Okay, do you want to borrow my Les Miserables book? It's about poor people like your family."

"No," Girl Weasley mumbled again, closing her eyes and wincing.

"Casual Vacancy?"

"No."

"Twilight?"

"No."

"Vampire Diaries?"

"No."

"Secret Circle?"

"NO."

"Alice in Wonderland?"

"No!"

"Guardians of Ga'hoole?"

"NO!"

"Darkover?"

"I DON'T WANT TO BORROW ANY OF YOUR BOOKS, FAYE!"

I sniffed.

"Well you don't have to be so rude about it."

And loud. Don't forget loud.

And being loud in the library is definitely not a good idea. Immediately, Madam Pince was upon us. Seriously, how does she cross the library so fast? It's definitely not human-like.

"Quiet!" she snapped. "Detention for both of you!"


	48. Rule #50

Rule #50: I will not take out life insurance on Harry Potter

So what I'm starting to gather is that I just shouldn't be allowed to make money because all of my moneymaking schemes end in detention. But here's the thing…

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LIVE IF I CAN'T MAKE MONEY? HUH? HUH?

After all, I need to eat. Can't live without eating and can't eat without having money.

Well, I suppose you could but I'm not the type of person that has the patience to wait for things to grow.

Not my fault that the best way I could think of making money involved Potter. And I didn't just use him. He was just the case that got me caught. I also managed to take out life insurance policies on Voldemort and Dumbledore.

Needless to say, I'm set for life.

Well, probably not life. Probably just for another ten years or so. I'm a girl. I have needs! I'm allowed to blow money!

And besides, it's not like I actually killed anyone. Though, I'm pretty sure my parents thought I was going to. One should never ask:

"Daddy, how do you take a life insurance policy out on someone?"

My mother wasn't around to stop my father from answering that question. Good thing, otherwise I would have still been broke. As I was a teenager, I became good at getting my timings down. I would wait until my mother was out of the house before cornering my dad and demanding answers. That way, the only questions she heard me ask were questions about schoolwork, mild pranks, and girl things.

My groundings drastically decreased. It was pretty awesome, if I say so myself. That was also the first real sign that my Slytherin traits were starting to form. I was no longer a dumbass that occasionally blew things up on accident. I was now a smart dumbass that made things blow up on purpose (and then blamed others for it).

I was ecstatic when I came back to Hogwarts and heard about the Triwizard Tournament. I didn't actually want to enter but I was well prepared to make money, just like Fred and George. The only difference was that they made their money by betting while I made mine by betting on who would die.

I knew I should have taken out that policy on Diggory. I'm still kicking myself for not going through with that idea. I could have been even richer!

No, instead I banked on Potter dying.

Stupid idea. How could I forget that he was Harry Potter, the Boy-That-Bloody-Lived?

I understand why Voldemort hated him now.

During the days following the announcement of the champions for the Triwizard Tournament, it was nearly impossible to talk to Potter and try to convince him to die—or at least pretend he did and never return to the Wizarding World.

Much like Simba in The Lion King.

"Potter!" I called over the crowd, bouncing up and down to see over the heads of other students because Professor Flitwick had informed me the week before that it was inappropriate to try and be a spider and climb the walls. "Hey! Potter!"

Damn Gryffindor ran away. Literally.

I just wanted to talk!

"Potter!" I called as the last classes got out for the day. "Potter! I need to talk to you!"

He ran away again.

That bull about Gryffindor courage is just plain bull.

The next day I tried again, stringing ropes across the doorway to make him trip and fall down the stairs.

"Potter! Listen to me!" I demanded as he went tumbling. I stood at the bottom of the stairs and waited until he came to a stop.

"Are you going to listen to me now?" I asked. He glared up at me.

"What do you want?" he demanded. I placed my hands on my hips.

"You need to die," I informed him. His eyes widened.

"Why?" he asked skeptically.

"Because I took out a life insurance policy on you and I need the money," I told him. Potter rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, no," he replied. "Nice try. I'm not dying."

My eyes narrowed.

"You act like you have a choice," I said. "I will beat you with a stick if you don't agree to die."

Potter snorted.

"What stick?" he asked. "Your wand?"

I gave him an appalled look.

"Of course not. I'll beat you with Lucius Malfoy's walking stick," I told him. "I hear it likes to shoot out nasty curses."

"I'm not dying Faye. Just hook up with Fred and George and make money by placing bets," Potter sneered. I growled.

"No!" I shouted. "You're dying and I'm getting my damn life insurance policy!"

Just then a throat cleared from behind my back. I immediately forced an innocent smile on my face and turned around. The smile fell off as soon as I saw it was McGonagall.

There was no getting out of this one.

"Detention."


	49. Rule #51

Rule #51: I will not go to meals dressed as Choda Boy.

So, I know the film Mean Girls has nothing to do with this rule but it inspired this in some weird roundabout way. Apparently Halloween is the one day a girl can dress up like a slut and no one can say anything about it. I didn't have a clue about that rule until I saw the movie. Who knew?

Of course, the movie is American but it didn't occur to me until after this incident that this supposed rule might be strictly American. Damn Americans…

I swear, they are half the reason why I get into trouble.

Actually, make that three-fourths. One of my grandparents was American. So half of it is the culture and a quarter of it is genetics, which probably explains a lot.

So for Halloween my fifth year, I wanted to dress like a slut but I didn't want to dress like a traditional slut with lingerie and animal ears. That would be too boring. I wanted something exotic, something that wasn't well-known. I had nothing.

So I asked my dad.

"Daddy, what's the most perverted thing you can think of to dress up as?"

By this point in my life, my parents had just stopped questioning why I asked certain questions. Confusing, but ultimately a smart move on their part.

"Choda Boy," my dad answered after a few minutes. I knew that probably wasn't the first thing he had come up with (it certainly wasn't the first thing that crossed my mind) but it certainly wasn't a well-known thing. It worked and that's all I needed. It certainly was better than my idea of a unicorn.

And yes, unicorns can be perverted. Trust me.

After all, an animal has to be perverted if it has a dildo on it's head.

Apparently my dad had similar thoughts because that was the first thing I noticed when I saw a picture of Choda Boy. A unicorn!

So, at the end of the summer, I snuck a dildo out of my mum's drawer in preparation of Halloween. She wouldn't notice it missing. She had two spares.

You know the best thing about wizard hats? The big pointy ones? It covers the dildo you're wearing on your head. It let me do the big reveal in the Great Hall without getting in trouble on the way down. It certainly added flair to the ensemble.

It looked like the normal Halloween feast when I arrived. The occasional muggleborn student was dressed in costume and everyone was naïve and happy. There were a couple of confused looks when I arrived due to the fact that it seemed I wasn't in my normal costume. I was one of the few students that insisted on dressing up, despite not being muggleborn. To see me in robes and a hat was strange to the professors and other students. Professor Snape immediately looked suspicious but didn't have the chance to approach me. I was too fast for him.

Upon entering the Great Hall, I approached the Gryffindor table and climbed on top, knocking over plates and goblets. Professor Snape cringed before looking murderous.

"My fellow students!" I called. "It is time for the great costume reveal!" Gryffindors were trying to pull me off of their table but I refused to leave. Some of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws looked amused and intrigued. The Slytherins were just pretending that I didn't exist, which was a part of their everyday routine.

"Get down!" someone hissed. I ignored them and began pulling off my robe.

"My fellow students!" I said loudly. "I. Am." I whipped off my robe and tossed my hat in the air.

"Choda Boy!"

There was a stunned silence for a few seconds. I am proud to say that I am among the few students that can make the whole of Hogwarts utterly speechless.

Then came the reactions. The students were in an uproar, pointing and laughing or just plain blushing. The teachers looked scandalized and furious. If I thought Professor Snape was murderous before, it was nothing compared to what it was now.

I'm not sure exactly who said it first, but the teachers were in complete agreement on their reactions. Nearly everyone shouted out the same word. Even some of the students.

"Detention!"


	50. Rule #52

Rule #52: Sirius Black did not found the Sirius Cybernetics Corp.

An honest mistake! The Black family (at least according to my father, so I don't know how accurate that bit of information is) was great at investing and starting up businesses. If you wanted your business to go anywhere, you got backing from the Black family.

So pardon me for being wrong. I can't be perfect all the time. I'm actually not perfect at anything, according to my professors. And my relatives. And my classmates.

It's amazing that I have an ego or any self-esteem at all, considering how many times my plans have failed.

It probably didn't help that most of the products that Sirius Cybernetics Corporation produced were labor saving items that were flawed and incompetent. One can only expect something of that quality to come from someone like Sirius Black, the black sheep of the Black family.

Don't tell Potter or any of the Golden Trio I said that, though. If you do, I'll set my niffler on you and take everything of value that you own. And yes, I have a niffler. Her name is Oliver.

Having read about the GPPs and Sirius Cybernetic Corporation, I decided that I wanted one. So I went directly to the source. Harry Potter.

Well…. Maybe it wasn't directly to the source. But it was the best I could do, considering I was at Hogwarts and not allowed to leave.

"Hey Potter!" Was it just my imagination or did Boy Wonder let out a whimper at the sound of my voice. Girl Weasley, who was sitting nearby, paled and tried to scoot away from me as far as she could. We had some unresolved differences in opinion at the point. Something about flobberworms.

When I got no response, I poked to scarred boy in the side. He jumped and tried to move away but I didn't let him.

"Hey Potter!" I repeated, continuously poking him. "Potter!"

He turned with an aggravated expression on his face. "What?" he asked sharply.

"I want a GPP," I told him.

"Did she say that she wanted to pee-pee?" Ginny's older brother asked under his breath. I scowled at him.

"Oh shut it, Weasley Number Nine Hundred," I said. "This doesn't concern you." I turned back to Potter.

"So when can I get my GPP?" Green eyes stared back at me blankly.

"What's a GPP?" Potter asked. I huffed and rolled my eyes.

"A Genuine People Personalities," I explained. "I want one and your godfather is going to give me one." The Boy-Who-Lived actually snorted in amusement and turned away.

"Not going to happen as he wouldn't even know what that is," he replied. I ground my teeth together as my hands clenched into fists. In case you didn't know, I really didn't like to be told no.

"Yes it will."

"Or?" Potter asked. I glared at him.

"Or I turn your owl into owl tandoori," I announced and started to walk away, thinking that the matter was resolved. That's when it happened.

"Professor McGonagall, Faye is threatening to kill innocent animals again!" Potter called across the Great Hall. Everyone's eyes turned to me as I turned back to face Potter. That little…

I let out an unearthly screech and attempted to tackle him. Unfortunately, the older and much bigger Gryffindors decided that he needed protecting. It took three of them to drag me off that little…

Professors McGonagall and Snape strode over to break up the almost fight.

"Detention!"


	51. Rule #53

Rule #53: I will not draw an H on Percy Weasley's forehead

I still don't get why this is a rule. Nowhere else in the general rules does it say that it is not okay for students to draw on other students. Besides, it's not like I went too far. I just added sparkles and sound effects. I was determined to be stylish!

When I told that to my friends, they just laughed. According to them, I have no sense of style, which also doesn't make sense. Don't Slytherins naturally have style? I like to think that we do.

And for the record, sleeping in the library is a bad idea. It just causes a lot of temptation.

You would think a Prefect would know better. Especially one that had grown up with Fred and George.

I was trying to get homework done in the library. Honest! I know it sounds odd but Professor McGonagall had threatened me with detention if I didn't finish my essay. My month was already filled up with detentions, so I was trying to avoid racking up another one.

That's when I spotted Percy Weasley sitting in the corner, asleep with his mouth open. Apparently he had been studying for his NEWTs.

I probably would have dozed off, too. Studying is so boring!

Naturally, upon seeing that, all thoughts of doing homework vanished. Went "poof!" Disappeared with no plan to be seen again until the hour before my essay was due.

I twiddled with the quill in my hands before noticing the glittery, color-changing ink I had received as an Easter present from my parents. It didn't take long for my thoughts to jump from point A, the glittery color-changing ink, to point B, Weasley's forehead. It also didn't take long for my quill to make that jump as well.

I was so certain that I wouldn't get caught. After all, the Weasley twins had done it countless times without getting caught. I had a fairly good chance of getting away with it.

Or I would have, had I not been in the library. I had forgotten about Madam Pince, who watched me like I hawk whenever I was in the library. Honestly, it's like once I'm in the library, she loses all other lines of vision. You could do anything in the library but as long as I am in there, she wouldn't notice.

It's so unfair. No other student gets that sort of attention. Not even the Weasley twins!

Now don't ask me how I knew the spell to add sound effects to ink. It's not a spectacular story. I just like making birthday cards. And anniversary cards. And Congrats! You didn't die! cards.

Harry Potter still hasn't thanked me for any of those cards. And trust me, he's received a few. Ungrateful little…

I had just added the sound effects on the H to honk like a duck whenever the word 'head' was spoken by Percy Weasley. Considering he was Head Boy at the time, he said 'head' a lot. It was genius!

"What are you doing?" I gave a startled scream as both Percy Weasley and Madam Pince asked the question at the same time. I didn't even know that Weasley had woken up! It was one of the most frightening things of my life!

"Nothing," I tried to say innocently and pretended to whistle a bit. Neither believed me. Madam Pince grabbed my ear.

"Shame on you!" she said.

"I'm Head—" Percy Weasley looked confused as the H on his forehead started to honk. "I'm Head—" Again, his forehead honked. I giggled and he glared at me.

"I'm Head Boy!" he said, continuing through the resulting honking. "Show a little respect!"

He started to rub the H off his forehead but I already knew it wouldn't work. Besides being color-changing and glittery, there was another fun aspect of the ink.

It could only be removed by having a toad pee on it.

Percy Weasley looked appalled and disgusted when I read that little bit of information off the label. Madam Pince was red with anger and frustration.

"Detention!"


	52. Rule #54

Rule #54: My name is not Captain Subtext

Yes it is. My name definitely is Captain Subtext. I am the villain that gave Jeff Murdock nightmares.

I really don't mind living in the attic. It's better than the cupboard under the stairs, I guess.

For the record, this is all a joke. I'm not that delusional, though I will stick with my claim that living in an attic is better than living in a cupboard under the stairs. At least there's sometimes windows in an attic.

And depending where you live, body parts, murder weapons, and mementos of family members that died under suspicious circumstances. Also, spider webs, items needed for Satanic rituals and the blood of a virgin.

Completely normal stuff.

That's enough about my attic. Back to the story.

People-watching is how this all started. After all, people-watching is highly amusing. You can make up stories about their lives so far and when you get bored with that, you can eavesdrop on their conversations and try and figure out what the people involved are really trying to say.

And thus, I became the Captain Subtext of Hogwarts.

Like always, I had specific people I liked to focus on. I started out with Ron and Hermione because their attraction for each other was so blatantly obvious. Trust me. Around their sixth year, it was so awkward to be around the two. Everyone (even the Hufflepuffs!) could tell that they would start snogging soon.

I'll give you a typical interaction as an example.

Hermione would spout off some random fact. In the animal world that would be comparable to her showing off her feathers and trying to prove that she was a desirable mate. My reaction whenever this happened—gagging. The showing off got to the point where it was absolutely appalling. But I guess that's the animal world—disgusting equals attractive in some cases.

Next Ron would stutter and pretend to be offended that Hermione thought he didn't know anything (no matter how true it was). That was him trying to show that he was shy and bashful and didn't want to take the lead in this interaction, no matter how desirable he thought Hermione was.

That was followed by some brief arguing, in which the flames of desire were lit and you could see how much they desperately wanted to shag by the constant shifting of postures and the constant touching.

It was adorable at first but it eventually got to the point where I would yell, "Just snog already!"

Of course they would blush and try to deny everything. It gave others a good laugh though.

Now, I lead you to perhaps my favorite interaction of all time—Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. A constant source of amusement.

Especially when you're on the other side of the corridor and can only imagine what they're saying.

"Potter!"

Oh! There's my cue to begin. This one's easy. "Potter!"

"Malfoy."

Another easy one. "Malfoy."

"Still hanging with that Mudblood and Weasel?"

Ooh. Things are getting kinky. "Whenever you get some time away, you should come meet me in the Room of Requirement."

"Shut it Malfoy!"

Meaning, "I wish I could but it's too scandalous."

"Oh? Sensitive are you, Potter?"

"I know exactly how sensitive you are."

And Potter storms away, probably to hide the blush on his face.

A throat cleared behind me. My mouth shut. Apparently I had been saying things out loud.

Professor Snape did not look amused.

"Detention."


	53. Rule #55

Rule #55: Black Phoenix Alchemy Labs does not sell potions' ingredients and I will snot resell their products as "Veela Pheromones"

You know, you would think that schools would be more open to business investments. Don't they want us to learn about the real world?

I can assure you that my business investments are great ways to teach my fellow students not to be suckered in by fancy words and deals. I could be a great teacher.

And it's really not my fault that some people are completely stupid. Or that Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab picked a name that sounds like it would sell potions' ingredients. Honestly, who names a perfumery an "alchemy lab"? That's just asking for misunderstandings.

My grandmother gave me a bottle of one of their oils for a birthday present one year, which first introduced me to the company. You see, normally I'm not into that kind of thing but it's hard not to be curious when you learn that they call one of their bottle sizes 'Imp's Ears.' Yeah, that definitely caught my attention.

After learning that, I kept on ordering different oils from their shop because sometimes—only sometimes, mind you—I can be the typical girl and go on shopping sprees. This just happened to be one of those times. I knew that I was never going to use them but the Slytherin in me knew that they could still be useful.

And useful they were. I greatly thank the Bulgarians for bringing Veela to the Quidditch World Cup. Without them, I would never have concocted this wonderful plan to supplement my allowance. Thankfully Mum wasn't there at the time to find out what I was doing. My dad had already promised not to tell, as he thought it was a genius idea. It seemed foolproof and I didn't think there was any way I could possibly get into trouble.

Of course, nobody could have predicted what was going to happen after the match was over.

"Veela Pheromones!" I called, hauling the cart behind me containing the bottles. "Veela Pheromones! Get some bottled Veela Pheromones so that all men—or women' I'm not judging—are attracted to you. Entrance your crush! Bewilder your enemies!"

I was surprised by how many people, especially men, that I was attracting. Apparently Veela Pheromones were in hot demand.

Those poor suckers. I was making a ton of money and they were just getting some Imp's Ears. I would have made a lot more if the Dark Mark hadn't been shot in the air.

Trust me, that was a fast way to lose customers.

However, while everyone else was running in the other direction, I plowed on and continued to be the best saleswoman I could be.

"Veela Pheromones!" I called as people ran by screaming. "Get your Veela Pheromones!"

Someone slowed and I smiled brightly at them. However, my smile soon faded when I saw who it was.

"Veela Pheromones?" I offered to Professor McGonagall, who scowled. I'm not even sure what happened next is entirely legal, to be honest. Of course, what I was doing may not have been legal either.

"Already?" Professor McGonagall asked with a defeated expression. I shrugged innocently.

"First day of classes, my office," she said. "Now go into the forest."

"But I'm trying to make a profit!" I protested. That was obviously the wrong thing to say as she scowled.

"Detention!"


	54. Rule #56

Rule #56: I will not refer to Kingsley Shacklebolt as a "Big Black Sex Auror"

Back to the whole nickname thing again. I'm not going to keep apologizing for coming up with nicknames, particularly if I think someone's Hot. And yes, that is hot with a capital H. Kingsley Shacklebolt deserves the capital H.

And for the record, I am aware that there is an age gap. It still doesn't stop me from thinking that he's good-looking. And I know of plenty of Americans that think of older guys as good-looking. George Clooney anyone? It's perfectly normal. And at least he's only twenty or so years older than me, not fifty or seventy.

I'm not that creepy, thank you very much, despite what everyone else thinks.

When I first met Kingsley Shacklebolt, he was coming out of Dumbledore's office after having attempted to arrest the man. Ha. Arrest Albus Dumbledore? That was a very amusing concept at the time. Fudge should have just asked around. You don't just arrest Albus Dumbledore. That would be way too easy.

And since when are things at Hogwarts ever easy?

Easy answer—never!

Yeah. Try wrapping your head around that one.

Now, when I meet someone Hot, I tend to go right up to them and introduce myself. Sometimes it works, other times it doesn't. Charlie Weasley was amused and mildly disturbed when I introduced myself to him, though I think his siblings were more disturbed than he could ever be. Blaise Zabini doesn't come within a ten-foot radius of me nowadays.

Like I said. Sometimes it works and other times it doesn't. Normally it's just a passing fancy and I don't get offended if they start to avoid me. My mum says that if they can't appreciate my special qualities, then they should be in the mental institute and I shouldn't waste my breath over them.

I was sneaking around the halls when I first saw Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was talking to his fellow Aurors as they walked away from the headmaster's office. Intrigued by what I saw, I tailed after them as subtly as I could.

Of course, my subtly has been compared to the subtly of Nymphadora Tonks. I had no idea who that was at the time, but most people thought that we would get along great.

So, of course the Aurors probably knew that I was tailing them but Professor McGonagall was with them at the time, so she probably assured them that everything would be fine.

Me and the word 'fine' don't exactly get along, though. When I hear things are going 'fine', I naturally have to make a scene. Things can never be just 'fine'.

So what did I do to make things not be 'fine'?

I tripped over a suit of armor.

Not the brightest idea I ever had but then again, it really wasn't idea. The suit of armor was there and then its foot seemed to move.

Right in front of me.

If you thought hitting the floor after tripping was painful, try hitting the floor and then having a suit of armor fall on you.

Those bruises will last months, I tell you.

"Are you okay?" As I came around, I heard Professor McGonagall's voice. I groaned and kept my eyes shut. I didn't want to see who else had seen my marvelous fall. Hopefully none of my housemates. We currently had a bet to see how long I could go without tripping. I had banked on a week. I had barely lasted twenty-four hours.

"If I say no, will the Big Black Sex Auror take me to St. Mungo's?" I asked. Professor McGonagall sputtered in mortification while the Aurors that had stuck around laughed.

"Inappropriate language!" Professor McGonagall hissed. "Don't make me give you a detention again!"

I groaned.

"But Professor McGonagall, I can't fucking afford another fucking detention," I whined and cringed as I realized what I said. It slipped out! Honestly!

"Detention!"


	55. Rule #57

Rule #57: I cannot Hadoken anything into oblivion.

So why can't wizards and witches replicate other moves and attacks from shows or video games or books? That would be totally awesome! If we could do that, I could totally become a female version of Naruto and have tens of thousands of clones to do my bidding at the drop of a hat! Can you just imagine? My enemies would run away in terror!

Of course, they already do that but I'm sure they would run faster if they saw more than one of me. I've never really understood why my mother always says that she's thankful I wasn't a twin. Can you imagine if I was a twin? We would be the female versions of the Weasley twins!

And if I couldn't be the next Naruto, I could become the next Blayce the Gallan! I could create killing machines out of the souls of children and take over the world! MWUAHAHA!

And seriously, so what if I'm on track to becoming a female Voldemort? Or the next Dark Lord—err, Lady—actually make that Dark Mistress. Sounds cooler that way. At least it shows that I have aspirations, unlike some other people I know.

Besides, my mother always said I could do whatever I wanted if I put my mind to it. I'm sure she regretted it when I cut my hair off and dyed it in rainbow streaks but she still said it! You can't take words back!

So, since I could do whatever I wanted, I decided I wanted to Hadoken something!

And that something was a first year because the older I got, the more I realized that first years were just little piles of shits.

And dumb. Trust me on that one. It was all too easy to convince one to let me Hadoken them. It was like they didn't even know what I was trying to do.

Thinking back on it, that may have been the case. After all, I did pick a pureblooded first year to Hadoken.

Poor unfortunate soul. He didn't know what hit him—literally.

"So what exactly are you trying to do?" he asked. I was focused on my hand, trying to summon the light-energy type thing I had seen happen.

"Just keep standing there," I told him. "You'll see in a minute. It shouldn't be too long now."

Already there was a tiny blue spark that was growing quickly. I grinned to myself, proud of my accomplishment.

"I have homework to do," the first year whined. "Can you just get on with it?"

"Oh shut it," I snapped. Finally the blue ball of light was about the size of my hand and crackling slightly. Cool.

I turned to face the first year. Upon seeing my expression, he twitched nervously but I didn't give him time to back out of our deal. I stepped closer so I wouldn't have to run to get him.

"Hadoken!" I cried, thrusting the ball of light at the first year. Before the light overtook my vision, I saw his eyes widen and felt him flying backward. Either it worked or I'm a lot stronger than I think I am. Judging by what happened next, I'm inclined to believe it was the first.

There was a sound of a body colliding with something hard. Judging by the lack of pain, I'd say that it was the first year who hit the wall.

Then the light cleared. My mouth dropped open as I assessed the scene. There was a first year-sized hole that went straight through the corridor wall and into the classroom that lay on the other side. The first year was unconscious. Multiple students had fainted from the shock of seeing someone come flying into the room.

"Yes!" I cried, pumping a fist into the air. "It worked!"

Then the professor of the class stepped forward. It was Professor McGonagall and she looked furious. Deadly, even.

Crap.

"Detention!"


	56. Rule #58

Rule #58: Professor Flitwick's first name is not Yoda

One of the great mysteries in life for a student is trying to figure out what their professor's first name is. Once you find out a professor's first name, it's like a gold mine of information.

There's a reason professors don't want students to know their first names, after all. They don't want to deal with the stalking. Especially not from young love struck girls.

Not that I was one of those girls, mind you. I just know how terrifying they can be. I honestly don't know why the army hasn't put such creatures to use already. Round up a hoard of girls, plant their favorite celebrities and crushes in the middle of the enemy army, and watch them charge.

It would be such an easy way to fight battles. Girls are vicious (I should know—I am one!) and even more so when they're trying to get something they want. No army can compare.

Now imagine that scene, but with stealth and stalking involved.

And that would be the reason professors don't want students knowing their first names. Not because it's rude or whatever excuses they come up with. Nope. They just can't deal with teenagers seeing them outside of school.

Why else are those meetings in the grocery store or at yoga so awkward?

Since the professors are so tightlipped about their names, it leads to guessing names among the students. It keeps us occupied during boring lectures so we don't fall asleep.

Unfortunately, it doesn't always work. Especially in History of Magic and Divination.

And it's the one game I can actually play with my female Slytherin yearmates. They appreciate my input.

"Professor Sinistra?" someone whispered.

"I bet it's something plain, like Emily," the girl sitting beside her whispered. "Or Mary."

"It says A. Sinistra on her door, though," a third girl pointed out.

"Amy then?" the second girl guessed. "Or Andrea?"

I snorted.

"It's clearly Andrew," I said confidently. The three girls giggled behind their hands.

"Professor Flitwick?" the first girl asked. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I thought. Professor Flitwick had always reminded me of someone from a movie.

"Dwarf?" someone guessed.

"Don't be silly. No one would actually have that for a name," the first girl spat. "I bet it's something exotic like—"

"Frank?" I suggested. The girls giggled again.

"Batman?" I continued. "No…that's not the right movie. The Doctor? Nope…"

"Herman?" the third girl guessed. I shook my head. Then my eyes widened. I had it!

"Yoda!" I cried. "His name is Yoda!"

I pumped my fist in the air. Around us students glared at me for disturbing class again. There was a sound of a pot shattering from the startle I had given Professor Sprout. She glared at me before summoning a broom.

"Clean this up," she ordered the girls I had been playing the name game with. "And do try and pay attention."

Then she turned her attention on me. I tried to give her my most innocent look.

"What?" I asked.

"I told you time and time again to stop disturbing class," Professor Sprout said. "Detention!"


	57. Rule #59

Rule #59: I am not the Defense Against the Boring Classes Professor

If we have Defense Against the Dark Arts, why can't we have Defense Against the Boring Classes? I'm sure that Boring Classes are a lot more dangerous than the Dark Arts.

After all, the Dark Arts will kill you quickly most of the time. Boring Classes kill you slowly. You want to torture somebody? Put them in History of Magic. They'll crack faster than you'd expect.

Trust me. It's been proven ten times over. When Professor Snape knows his students are hiding something, he'll assign them detention with Professor Binns until they reveal everything they know.

How else would he know everything? He's good at his job. Like, really good.

Not to mention there's Divination and Muggle Studies. Combined with History of Magic, those make up the Terrible Three. I once had the Terrible Three on Mondays. By the fourth week of school, I had declared Mondays to be a part of my weekend and never went unless my classmates dragged me there.

It was fun until Professor McGonagall found out. Then she threatened me with expulsion. Detentions I don't mind. Expulsion is a totally different story. If I got expelled, that would mean I would have to sit through countless lectures by my mother and grandparents about how I'd never make anything out of my life and that I'll die lonely and a failure.

And no, telling them that I'll make origami frogs out of my life isn't an acceptable answer. I already tried that.

When I came back to Hogwarts the following year, I made it my goal to prevent students from dealing with what I was forced to deal with the previous term.

And thus the Defense Against the Boring Classes Class was born.

"Lesson one!" I chirped as I faced my small group of first years. "The fool-proof ways of how to avoid getting bored. What are some ways that you already know of?"

"Fall asleep?" someone volunteered.

"Draw?" someone else said. I nodded.

"Good answers but that's not the number one way to avoid getting bored," I informed them. "The number one way is…" I trailed off for suspense. "Don't go to your classes."

"Don't you need to go to learn?" a Ravenclaw first year asked. I sighed. That was such a typical Ravenclaw question.

"That's what books are for," I informed him. "Everything they teach you here can easily be learned from a book as well. Now for some lesser known ways to defeat the evils of boredom!"

I handed out a small box to each of my students.

"These are from the Weasley twins. Inside, you've got Nosebleed Nougats and a few other illness-inducing sweets. There's also a few trick wands in to have wand fights, if you get really desperate. And, if you think that you can't possibly take it anymore, there's a few dungbombs and decoy detonators. Use these lessons well, young grasshoppers."

The first years looked extremely nervous. They looked too afraid to move. I wasn't sure why until a throat cleared behind me. I plastered an innocent smile on my face and turned around to see Professor Snape glowering at me.

"Detention," he said.


	58. Rule #60

Rule #60: I am no longer allowed to use the words "pimp cane" in front of Draco Malfoy.

Some people are so sensitive.

Besides, it's not my fault that his father owns a pimp cane. He even sticks his wand in it. Do you know how many jokes I managed to make once I realized that?

According to Draco Malfoy, too many. And since he's a little suck-up and Professor Snape's godson, my side of the story never got heard. By this point, I think that Professor Snape gave me detention just to occupy more hours of the day.

Apparently me being bored is a bad thing for the sanity of the general population. No surprise there.

"Draco, can you get me one of your father's pimp canes for Christmas?"

Draco's answer was an immediate "No."

"Please," I begged, batting my eyelashes. "I really, really want a pimp cane."

"No," Draco repeated. "Absolutely not."

"But I want a pimp cane," I whined. Draco sighed.

"No. And stop saying those words."

"What words?" I asked in confusion. Draco glared at me.

"You know exactly what words," he said sharply. I shook my head.

"No I don't. Now about that pimp cane…"

"Those words!" Draco snapped. "Stop saying those words!"

"What words?" I asked again. "Pimp cane?"

"Yes!" Draco cried.

"But I want one," I informed him. "And I need to say those words to get across what I want from you."

"I'm not getting you anything for Christmas!" Draco snapped.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because you're bloody annoying!" Draco said in frustration. I pouted.

"I'll keep saying it until you give one to me," I warned. Draco's eyes narrowed.

"Don't you even dare…" he said in a dangerous voice. I smiled maliciously.

"Pimp cane!" I shouted, drawing everyone's attention. "Pimp cane! Pimp cane!"

Draco stormed out of the room. I followed him, starting to sing.

"Pimp cane, pimp cane, pimp cane, pimp cane," I sang. "Pimp cane, pimp cane, pimp cane, pimp cane."

It wasn't until we were in the Potions classroom when I realized where Draco was heading. Even then, I wasn't deterred.

"Pimp cane," I continued to sing. "Pimp cane, pimp cane, pimp cane, pimp cane."

Draco didn't even need to say anything when he entered Professor Snape's office. Professor Snape just looked up, saw me singing, and sighed. His voice was dull as he gave the verdict.

"Detention…"


	59. Rule #61

Rule #61: It is generally accepted that cats and dragons cannot interbreed and I should not attempt to disprove this theory, no matter how wicked the result would be.

How were griffins created then? How? HOW?

Yes, I realize that griffins are half lion, half eagle but a dragon can be easily supplemented for an eagle. Can't they? I mean, they both have wings.

Besides, if you crossed a cat with a dragon, then it would have wings and would breathe fire. They might even have scales!

It would be so cool!

The only problem with this plan is that it's nearly impossible to get a hold of a dragon nowadays. It's not like you can just smuggle one in. In case you haven't noticed, dragons are rather big.

Huge, in fact.

So the easiest thing to do you bring the cats to the dragons.

And that's why I proposed the idea of a Hogwarts field trip to a dragon reserve. Hagrid was all for it.

Then again, you just have to say the word 'dragon' and he'll fall in love.

"Please Professor McGonagall, can we have a field trip?" I asked one day after class. Immediately she looked hesitant.

"A field trip?" she asked. I nodded.

"To broaden students' horizons," I said. I had read it off a brochure and thought that it sounded very professional.

"And where would you have this field trip go?" Professor McGonagall asked. I smiled brightly.

"A dragon reserve," I told her. "Dragons are very misunderstood creatures."

Professor McGonagall sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"Why a dragon reserve of all places?" she asked. I shrugged.

"I think it sounds like it would be a cool place to go. Plus, you've always told us to be thinking toward the future. I might be interested in becoming a dragon handler."

Professor McGonagall cringed at the idea.

"You should not be in the same place as fire-breathing dangerous creatures," she muttered under her breath. "The answer is no."

I pouted.

"Why not?" I asked. Professor McGonagall looked at me.

"So you're telling me that you want to go to the dragon reserve solely for academic purposes?" she asked. I nodded.

"And that it's not a way for you to smuggle in cats to try and breed cats with dragons?"

I cursed under my breath. How had she known?

Professor McGonagall had a smug smirk on her face.

"Don't talk to yourself," she informed me. "People can overhear. Nice try, though."

I cursed again.

"Please?" I begged. Professor McGonagall shook her head and pointed at the door. As I was leaving, Professor McGonagall stopped me.

"Oh, and for lying to a professor, you get a detention."


	60. Rule #62

Rule #62: Gryffindor courage does not come in bottle labeled "Firewhiskey"

If courage doesn't come from alcohol, then why is it called 'liquid courage'? It doesn't make sense! I was misled! My informants were wrong!

And since they're Gryffindors, I'm really surprised that they were wrong about 'Gryffindor courage'. How did they get something as basic as that wrong?

Well, I guess what Malfoy says is true. Never trust a Weasley.

Especially not the Weasley twins. They're to blame for everything. Not me.

Let it be known that during my first few years at Hogwarts, I wasn't a particularly courageous person. Since I wasn't, I always admired those that were. Especially the Gryffindors. In my young eyes, they were heroes and I wanted to be just like them.

So I went to talk to the most courageous people out of the house to figure out how I could be strong and courageous. Fred and George Weasley.

After all, they had to be brave to cause as much trouble as they did. Especially with their brother being Prefect and Head Boy.

"How do you do it?" I asked after cornering them in the corridor one day. "Is there some kind of ritual that you go through once you've been Sorted?"

"Is there some kind of ritual Slytherins go through to become pricks?" George retorted. "We don't do anything to become brave."

I stuck out my tongue at him for the comment about Slytherins.

"You have to do something," I insisted. "There's no way that you're all brave."

"It's the house of the brave," Fred Weasley pointed out.

"It's not fair!" I said, stamping my feet. "I want to be brave, too!"

The twins traded looks.

"All right, all right," they said. "Just give us a minute to get the potion."

"Potion?" I asked, tilting my head. "There's a potion?" They nodded.

"Be right back," George Weasley said before slipping around the corner. Fred and I waited awkwardly until he came back. When George came back, he was toting a large bottle of something labeled "Firewhiskey" that was a quarter full. Fred snorted in amusement.

"Drink up," he said, passing the bottle to me. I sniffed the liquid inside hesitantly. It smelled…okay. It wasn't like Madam Pomfrey's potions. I lifted the bottle to my lips and began to drink.

At first I wanted to cough and throw up because that stuff burned my throat but I forced myself to finish drinking the bottle's contents. When I was finished, I handed the bottle back.

"That stuff is nasty," I informed them before hiccupping. "Thank you!"

I turned to walk away but I ended up stumbling more than walking. As I stumbled, I realized that I had forgotten to ask about side effects. Oh well.

The corridors were spinning as I continued to walk down them. I hiccupped loudly as I passed a few students.

"What on earth—" I heard someone say behind me before I was abruptly spun around. "What did you do?"

I looked at Professor McGonagall and her double. Since when were there two of them? That wasn't fair! I could barely handle one!

"You smell funny," I told her and hiccupped again. "And you're—hic—mean!"

Professor McGonagall's nose wrinkled.

"Have you been drinking?" she asked. I nodded.

"Gryffindor—hic!—courage," I informed her. "So I feel like I should inform—hic!—you that—hic!—your class is too hard and—hic!—that you and Professor Snape—hic!—would make a lovely couple, even though I'm sure that your children—hic!—would be hideous."

Professor McGonagall stared at me in disbelief before she gripped my ear. I yelped in pain.

"Hospital wing for you," she declared. "So you can sober up. Then you get a detention."

"But I don't—hic!—want one!" I whined.

"Too bad. You're getting one anyway."

To show my displeasure, I vomited at her feet. Professor McGonagall gagged.

"Double detention!"


	61. Rule #63

Rule #63: Using the Engorgio charm on certain parts of the human anatomy is not permitted on school grounds, not even for entertainment purposes.

Can I blame Professor Moody for this one? Because the Ministry of Magic blames him for things and they usually work out pretty well.

Besides, he's the one that actually showed me the Engorgio charm when he was showing us the Cruciatus Curse. Pure genius, that man.

He had to have known that students were going to have fun with that charm. I know I certainly did.

"Engorgio," I whispered, pointing my wand at a boy's neck. His classmates giggled as it grew quickly.

"Engorgio," I whispered again, this time pointing my wand at a third year girl's legs. She yelped as they doubled in size.

"Engorgio," I hissed as Ron Weasley walked past, pointing my wand at his ears.

"It's Dumbo!" his brothers cried, seeing his ears grow. Ron tried to cover his ears but they were too big to be hidden.

"Engorgio," I said, pointing my wand at Pansy Parkinson's butt. She fell backwards at the extra weight and looked horrified as her friends snickered.

"Engorgio," I repeated, pointing to Dean Thomas's chest. The boy looked horrified as he suddenly began to grow breasts.

"Nice improvement," Draco Malfoy laughed. I was ready to aim my wand again, with the charm on my lips, when a hand settled on my shoulder and I was forced to turn around. My wand pointed at the ground.

"Engorgio?" I said, shivering as I looked at Professor Snape. His eyes widened.

Well, I thought my wand had been pointed at the ground. Apparently not.

"DETENTION!" Professor Snape roared once he had cast the countercharm. "FOR A MONTH!"


	62. Rule #64

Rule #64: First years are not to be fed to Fluffy

I never actually met Fluffy, though I heard the stories. Apparently he lives in the Forbidden Forest now. Smart dog. Plenty of trees to mark there. I wonder if his heads ever fight over which tree to pee on next. After all, that's probably the largest decision in his—their?—doggy life. Still, he must get hungry and first years are apparently very filling.

I'm not completely sure about that, though. First years always look a little scrawny to me. I certainly wouldn't try them.

Not that I eat people on a regular basis. Because that is considered cannibalism and cannibalism is frowned upon in today's world.

First years will believe anything you tell them. That's why they're so adorable at Hogwarts. They'll listen to everything you say and be awed by it. It's in second year when they become little brats and start ignoring you.

I should say that I never did any of the threatening. I left that to the older Slytherins and the rumors about Professor Snape.

That was one of the best rumors about him. Apparently if you're bad or cause trouble in Potions, Professor Snape will feed you to Fluffy. It's not true. He'll cut out your organs and use them for Potions ingredients. It's much more painful.

When I had a free period, I kept a tab on all the first years, making note of who got threatened to be fed to Fluffy. There were a lot of first years on my list. More than I expected. Almost half of the year.

I can't imagine how frustrated the professors were that year.

I knew that I couldn't round up all the first years, so I decided to go for the ones that I had the easiest access to—the Slytherin first years.

Yes, I know it's horrible to do something like this to my own housemates but I couldn't just waltz in the Gryffindor common room and kidnap their first years.

I don't think the Gryffindors would like that very much.

So, the night after my free period I stole some of the Bloody Baron's chains (Don't ask me how. I'm not even sure how I managed that one) and snuck into the first years' dormitory. It was easy to chain them up. They were too scared to scream.

We were almost out of the front door when we ran into Peeves. Normally Peeves and I get along fabulously but apparently not that night. Instead, Peeves decided to be a little shit.

"Students out of bed!" Peeves screeched when he saw the first years. "Ickle Firsties out of bed! Students leaving the castle!"

"Shut up!" I screamed. "Shut up!"

I think a few first years pissed themselves, giving Peeves more ammo.

"First years out of bed and making a mess!" he cackled. "Naughty, naughty, naughty!"

I stomped my foot and glared at Peeves.

"Shut up!" I hissed. "Or I'll feed you to Fluffy too!"

Peeves just laughed at my threats. I could hear footsteps pounding up the corridor. With a resigned sigh, I sat on the floor and crossed my legs.

I may or may not have sat in a puddle of piss. However, I didn't mind at the time. In fact, I was hoping that it would prevent the professors from coming too close to me. If they wouldn't touch me, they wouldn't drag me off to detention.

A trio of voices came from around the corner. I cringed as I could easily recognize all three voices. Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, and Filch.

How did I get so lucky?

Professor Snape groaned as he saw all the Slytherin first years wrapped up in ghost chains. Filch looked on with glee, rubbing his hands together at the thought of all the torture he could inflict. Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes.

I'm not quite sure who said it first but the adults were all thinking the same thing. At least I wasn't the only one on the receiving end this time.

"Detention."


	63. Rule #65

Rule #65: A wand is for magic only. It is not for picking noses, playing snooker, or drumming on desks, no matter how bored I become.

Why would you make something that's meant to be useful so much fun? You don't see anyone having fun with screwdrivers or hammers?

Well, if you don't include the Doctor or Thor. They don't count. Most people can't pull their looks off. Since they can, they're allowed to have the screwdriver and hammer.

And it's not like I actually tried to use my wand for such things. I didn't realize that I was actually doing those things, especially the whole drumming on the desk thing.

I'm not the only student who's drummed on the desks. I've seen plenty of students doing the same thing with their wands, hands, and quills, especially in Divination and History of Magic. It's a natural reaction when one is bored.

Of course, sparks don't normally fly out of the wands when you drum them on the desks. I guess that's what I get for singing random Latin words under my breath. I'm just lucky that Professor Sprout didn't notice. Instead, she was distracted by someone knocking over a Mandrake, causing the plant to start screaming.

Thankfully, it was an infant Mandrake so the entire class was only knocked out for a few hours. Professor Sprout still wasn't too happy. I, on the other hand, was thrilled that I wasn't the one receiving detention that time.

I was also lucky in regards to the whole nose thing. I wasn't exactly picking my nose. It was more like scratching an itch on the inside of my nose. I've seen tons of boys scratch their noses all the time, so I figured it was perfectly okay for me to do so.

I wasn't aware that there was a double standard when it came to nose scratching. Stupid paternalistic societies and their double standards.

Unfortunately my wand was broken at the time this event took place and everyone knows that broken wands are finicky creatures. Sometimes they won't work at all and other times they'll make your nose bubble and boil and swell to the size of your ass.

Yes, it was that bad. My wand has always hated me but I hadn't realized that our relationship was that bad. I could deal with the bubbling and boiling but the swelling?

I was offended. My arse isn't that large.

Needless to say, I went to get a new wand that weekend. The new wand and I got along much better until a dragon stepped on it.

Professor McGonagall thought I learned my lesson from that experience well enough that she didn't bother to give me a detention. Of course, the lack of detention may have also been due to the fact that she couldn't look at me without breaking into laughter for a week.

Thank goodness for small miracles.

My old wand was basically useless to me after that whole nose debacle but I didn't want to get rid of it. Even though we hated each other, we still had a close relationship. One could describe it as an intimate relationship.

So I was determined to find a use for it so I didn't have to get rid of my old wand.

Harder than it seems. I had consider using it as something to stick up others' arses but I heard a little voice in my head that told me it wouldn't be considered appropriate. Horrifyingly, it sounded a lot like Professor McGonagall.

My next idea was to use the wand to poke and burn the voice. However, that doesn't work if the voice is actually inside your head.

It wasn't until I went to the Hog's Head that the idea of snooker came to mind. There was a game going on as I sipped some butterbeer and I had the urge to join in. The guys playing gladly let me join but there was one problem.

I didn't have anything to play the game with. Until I remembered my old wand.

I'm actually quite good at snooker. My dad taught me and once he realized how good I was, he considered taking me to the United States to hustle pool. My mother quickly put an end to that idea. She refused to have a daughter that was a common criminal, which made me aspire to become an uncommon criminal.

I'm doing pretty well so far.

I had nearly won the game when the professors decided that the Three Broomsticks wasn't good enough for this Hogsmeade visit. Just my luck.

Professor McGonagall walked in just as I pointed my wand to the ceiling and cheered. Sparks flew out and lit the roof on fire, causing the bartender to curse.

"Sorry! Sorry!" I apologized and panicked when I heard Professor McGonagall calling my name.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Professor McGonagall demanded.

"Playing snooker," I told her, gesturing to the group of guys standing behind me. Professor McGonagall's eyes widened and she reached over to grip my ear. I yelped as she began to drag me out of the Hog's Head.

"Scandalous!" she muttered.

"I was just playing a game!" I protested.

"Minerva, what happened?" I stiffened as I heard Professor Snape's voice. This was bad. Very, very bad.

"I found a student of yours cavorting with the wrong crowd," Professor McGonagall informed him. I tried to smile innocently as I looked up at Professor Snape but it came out as more of a pained grimace. Professor Snape looked furious.

"A student that isn't supposed to be in Hogsmeade, nonetheless," he said dangerously. Professor McGonagall glared at me.

"Detention!" they both said together.


	64. Rule #66

Rule #66: It is inappropriate to slip sample bottles of Selsun Blue into Professor Snape's personal postbox.

I was just trying to help! I didn't know that he would get so offended!

I should have guess though. It is Professor Snape after all. He's known for being prickly.

But seriously. I was just trying to help. My dad was always receiving samples of these bottles in the mail (he said something about having filled out some survey) and he was never going to use them. So I figured that I would give them to someone who needed them and may or may not use them.

I think Professor Snape decided not to use them. Instead, he gave them to Hagrid, who used them all in one go.

The creatures really liked Hagrid after that.

When I came to Hogwarts after summer break, I had enough sample bottles to distribute to Professor Snape for a month. I gave them to him in the most unique ways that I could think of.

The first one I mailed by owl. The second one I dropped in his cauldron. The third one I slipped under a pile of essays. I replaced his stash of headache potions with the fifth one. The tenth one was wrapped and delivered by pixies.

I was glad by when I got to the last bottle. I had been running out of new ways to deliver the Selsun Blue bottles. At least I had a plan for the last bottle.

I'll admit going into this, I already figured I was going to get a detention. One could see Professor Snape growing more and more angry with each new bottle that was delivered.

I came early to Potions class the day I was to deliver the last bottle. Professor Snape gave me a concerned look. I don't know why he was so concerned. I'm perfectly capable of arriving at class on time. I just don't like to.

I approached his desk. Professor Snape watched my approach and sighed, putting away his essays.

"What do you want now?" he asked. "I'm not giving you permission to get books out of the Restricted Section."

I ignored that. I already had a method of getting books out of the Restricted Section. Peeves, I had learned by third year, was an excellent forger.

"I wanted to give you this," I said, holding out the small bottle of Selsun Blue. "My father says that you'd appreciate this present." Yeah, right. My father never actually said anything of the sort. But Professor Snape didn't have to know that.

Professor Snape stared down at the small blue bottle in disgust. He glared at me before glaring at the bottle.

"Detention," he whispered in a deadly voice. I smiled and bowed, placing the bottle on the desk. As I made my way to my seat, the bottle went flying across the room, followed by a few swears and curses.

"Detention!" Professor Snape repeated.


	65. Rule #67

Rule #67: I will stop referring to Hufflepuffs as "cannon fodder"

One of the great mysteries in life is trying to discover what Hufflepuffs are useful for. There was a rumor going around that Hufflepuffs are particularly good finders but I put that rumor to rest when I proved that most Hufflepuffs didn't even know where to find the Hogwarts' kitchen. The kitchen, of all places.

There were also suspicions that Hufflepuffs were good at cooking, a legacy passed on from Helga Hufflepuff herself but when I asked what the best way to prepare an artichoke was, I got asked if an artichoke was those creatures in Texas that frequently get run over.

That is an armadillo, not an artichoke.

Seriously people.

When I couldn't figure out what Hufflepuffs were useful for, I began to grow very frustrated.

And sometimes when I'm frustrated I say things that I don't necessarily mean.

Like when I told Professor Snape to suck my dick when he got on my case for my potion not being the right color.

You should have seen the color his face turned. It made the subsequent detention almost worth it.

Almost.

It's safe to say that after years of trying to figure out what Hufflepuffs were useful for, I was very frustrated.

Of course my housemates had to take advantage of my frustration.

"So, Professor Snape isn't too happy with the sixth year Hufflepuffs," Draco Malfoy was saying. "Apparently a pair of them blew up some cauldrons in Potions."

I snorted. That still pissed Professor Snape off? I was sure that he would have been resigned to the fact that cauldrons were going to explode. After all, he taught me, Seamus Finnigan, and Neville Longbottom. That equaled out to almost a ruined cauldron every other day.

"He always hates the Hufflepuffs," Pansy Parkinson sniffed. "They're absolutely useless."

Finally someone who shared my opinions!

"They have some uses," Blaise Zabini cut in. "I once heard someone say that the most useless thing can be easily used as cannon fodder, especially in war time."

I abruptly got to my feet, startling the first years that had been forced to sit with. That was it!

"Cannon fodder!" I cried. Blaise Zabini immediately shrunk in his seat.

Professor Snape swooped in on the scene as soon as I drew his attention but he wasn't quick enough to stop me from making my way over to the Hufflepuff table. I attempted to crawl on top of the table but Professor Snape dragged me back by the collar of my robes.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

"I discovered what Hufflepuffs are useful for!" I said loudly. The Great Hall quieted down to hear what would happen.

"Do tell," Professor Snape said sarcastically as he dragged me back toward the Slytherin table.

"They're cannon fodder!" I announced. Snickers broke out around the Great Hall. Professor Snape rolled his eyes and forced me back in my seat.

"Detention."


	66. Rule #68

Rule #68: I will not impersonate the Swedish Chef in Potions class

Yes, I realize now that this was a dumb idea. I blame Madam Pomfrey though. If she hadn't given me a potion for my cold just an hour before, my judgment wouldn't have been impaired to the point of stupidity.

"Warning," I said as I brought out my potions kit to begin the task for the day. "I am sort of a trained professional."

My partner rolled her eyes.

"No, you're not," she muttered. I glared at her.

"I said sort of," I sniffed. "Now, do not try this at home."

"Because you'll most likely not have the ingredients," my partner muttered under her breath. "Besides, why would you want to brew potions at home?"

I ignored her.

"Thank you," I said to my invisible audience and began slicing my first ingredient.

"Really, thank you for pretending to listen to her madness when no one else would," my partner chimed in.

"Fers shing ve shaa dee ish dischee dje shroots," I said confidently. My partner grinned.

"Translation: first thing we shall do is dice the roots," she said. "Why we gave her a knife, I'm really not sure. I can't believe no one's figured out what a bad idea this is."

"Ish deecooshe I ish haa phrosshenaal," I informed her.

"No, you're really not a professional," my partner said. "Not even close to being a professional."

I glared at her. Once my roots were perfectly diced, I gave them a dramatic kiss and tossed them into the cauldron while pretending to make little squealing noises to make it sound like the roots were being boiled alive.

"Secc, ve shaa maakee alle dee popopcornno," I announced. My partner gave me a confused look.

"There's nothing in the instructions about making popcorn," she said.

"Vee aarre invroosshing," I said, tossing in the rest of the ingredients without cutting, slicing, or doing anything to prepare them. My partner's eyes widened.

"Improvising isn't the best idea when it comes to Potions," she informed me. I shrugged.

"Nooshing baa hash shappeeeneded," I said.

"Not yet," my partner grumbled and ducked under the desk when the potion began to boil furiously and smoke. My eyes widened as I stared down at the potion.

"Shash's noot shuupoosheded dooo shappeeen," I said.

"Duck and cover!" my partner yelled as the Potion exploded and filled the classroom with smoke. When the smoke cleared, I could see Professor Snape standing beside me, looking furious.

"Detention!" he hissed.


	67. Rule #69

Rule #69: First years should not be encouraged to befriend the Whomping Willow

Oh my sweet, gullible first years. I got to play with six years worth of them.

The mind healers loved me as I continuously gave them new patients, according to St. Mungo's.

This quickly became a tradition for me. In the autumn, it was still nice enough that breaks between classes were spent on the Hogwarts' grounds instead of inside the warmest classroom. If I was lucky, I had a full two months before it got too cold to introduce the first years to the Whomping Willow.

I would start the initiation by leaping out from behind a suit of armor or a statue to wrap the lucky first year in a hug. If they didn't faint, they moved on to the next part of the initiation. If they did faint, I would deposit them in front of the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey should have appreciated the extra business I gave her. It meant that she got to see students other than Harry Potter or his pals. And the best part?

Madam Pomfrey blamed the Weasley twins, meaning that I got off completely free!

Do you know how rare that is? Usually it's me getting blamed for the Weasley twins' pranks, not the other way around.

The second part of the initiation was the best. I would lead the first years to the Whomping Willow, telling them about all the special things Hogwarts had to offer besides the obvious. I told them all about secret passages that didn't exist, tricks that would get Peeves to leave them alone (which usually didn't work), and the secret route that would lead them to the kitchen.

It took them to Professor Flitwick's private quarters instead.

I should warn you. If we ever meet and I try to give you directions, ignore them. Half the time I don't know what I'm talking about. For the longest time I thought King's Cross was a cross that the king would be crucified on, not a train station.

Eventually we would end up at the Whomping Willow.

"The oldest tree at Hogwarts!" I would announce to the first years. "If you climb to the top or manage to become its friend, you're guaranteed top marks for all seven years! How do you think I've managed to not be held back yet? Me and the Willow are great friends."

The first year would gaze at me skeptically but most of them ventured a step closer to the Whomping Willow before looking back at me. After a few years, I perfected my approach so that I knew exactly where the Whomping Willow would strike first and how far it could lash out. That step was all it took.

When the first years would glance back at me, the Whomping Willow would ready its branches and attack.

I must admit that it was hilarious to see the first years go flying while I remained unharmed. Then, as they attempted to escape the wrath of the Willow, I would run up to the front doors of Hogwarts, cackling as I went. Sure, I got a few strange looks but after the third or fourth time, students would be content to just ignore me.

I was on my fifth year of the initiation when things went wrong. I ran away cackling as I normally did but the front doors were blocked by Professor Sprout, who had apparently seen everything.

"How dare you! The Whomping Willow is a fragile tree!" she screeched. "I was wondering how it was always breaking its branches!"

I shrugged.

"First years are tougher than they look," I said. "And trust me, that tree is anything but fragile."

Professor Sprout glared down at me.

"Detention!"


	68. Rule #70

Rule #70: Novelty or holiday-themed ties are not to be worn with my school uniform

I was just trying to liven things up a bit in a subtle manner. Uniforms are so boring…

Plus, I don't look good in green. Or silver. Or black really. I prefer bright colors. And things that make noise.

At first no one noticed. It's not like professors go around the school, making sure that everyone is following the dress code and wearing the ornaments. Believe me, it's been tested.

There was this one day when the entire school switched ties. The Gryffindors became Ravenclaws, the Ravenclaws became Slytherins, the Hufflepuffs became Gryffindors, and us Slytherins became Hufflepuffs.

And no one even noticed. It was depressing to have proof that the professors don't pay attention to us students.

I started off subtly at first, changing my green Slytherin tie to a tie with trees and recycling symbols on it. Still green.

Then the next week, I changed the "Go Green!" tie to a Christmas tie. It was a bit early for the holiday themes (it was only September 18) but I didn't care about that. I was just trying to combine Gryffindor and Slytherin colors. I tend to do that around the holidays but those are stories for later.

On Halloween, I hide a flashing pumpkin tie under my robes. At times it would peek out and light up the classroom.

I may or may not have inadvertently given Professor Flitwick a headache but on the bright side, all the plants in Greenhouse 3 love me. They're apparently attracted to pumpkins.

Especially the mandrakes.

I didn't break out the musical ties until Christmas.

That was when I found out that Muggle electronics tend to go haywire when surrounded by magic.

My bad.

What was supposed to be a tie that sang Jingle Bells became something else entirely.

It probably wouldn't have been so bad had my tie begun to go crazy in Charms. Or History of Magic.

Or any other class besides Potions.

It didn't start to go wrong until we threw the newts' tails in. I accidentally hit the button on my tie against the desk.

The entire class must have jumped when Jingle Bells started to play. I looked around, trying to pretend it wasn't me.

It didn't work. Professor Snape immediately glared at me.

You know how after a minute the tie stops playing music?

Yeah, this time it didn't. It kept on playing.

And playing.

And playing.

And slowed down so that it sounded like creepy circus music.

To this day I still can't listen to Jingle Bells.

And if the continuous loop of music wasn't bad enough, the little chip in the tie that plays music decided to try and electrocute me.

"Ouch!" I shouted as it zapped me. "Shite! Damn! Fuck!"

Professor Snape look pissed off as I danced around, trying to pull my tie off. Instead, I only succeeded in nearly strangling myself.

"Fuck this Merlin-damned piece of shite!" I shouted as it continued to try and electrocute me. "Fuck it in the ass hard and long."

"Language!" Professor Snape shouted. I turned to him, having finally succeeded in pulling my tie off.

"Suck my dick!" I shouted as I threw my tie down on the ground in front of me.

Except I may have missed the ground and threw it into a cauldron instead.

The resulting explosion was fairly impressive, if I do say so myself.

Professor Snape looked murderous as the smoke cleared and a few pieces of the ceiling fell on to the ground at his feet. I was personally impressed that there was still a ceiling.

"Detention!"


	69. Rule #71

Rule #71: I will not use my socks to make hand-puppets of the Slytherin house mascot

I was just trying to be a nice person! It's not my fault that purebloods have sticks up their asses and can't take a little humor. And it's definitely not my fault that Professor Snape doesn't have a sense of humor.

Besides, I thought the rule was "What happens in the common room, stays in the common room." Clearly not because if that was the case, I would have never gotten a detention.

"I want to go home," a first year sighed. "I miss my parents."

"I miss my dog," a second first year chimed in. "And Hogwarts is so much harder than everyone said it was."

Already I could notice a few of the older Slytherins looking at them with irritation. Not that I could blame them. The first weeks of school were always the most annoying with all the homesickness that flew about the school. Especially when there were tears involved.

To prevent the tears from starting, I sat down on the nearest armchair and kicked off my shoes. As I began to pull off my socks, I received a few strange looks from my housemates but thankfully no wrinkled noses. My feet didn't smell that bad yet. It was still only the first week of classes and I still had some clean socks.

As I made my way over to the group of first years, I pulled one of my socks over my head and, with a flick of my wand, I created a mouth and a pair of eyes to go on my sock. Nifty charm, that.

I plopped myself in front of the group. The first years looked terrified at my sudden appearance. I showed them my sock-covered hand.

"I'm Snarky the Snake," I chirped in a slurred voice, adding hisses to the beginning and ends of my words. "I'm the mascot of Slytherin House and I like to slither-in to beds at night. I also like to feed on first years that whine a lot and that cry."

Right on cue, one of the smallest first years started crying. A sixth year shook his head. His younger brother, a second year, got to his feet and went running for the common room door and opened it.

"Professor Snape!" he yelled out the door. "She's doing it again!"

Professor Snape's sigh could be heard down that hall.

"Doing what again?" he demanded. "There's a lot of things she does."

I waved my hands wildly to signal for the second year to stop. He ignored me and I scowled at him.

"She's disrespecting the house and Slytherin's symbol!" the second year tattled. "She brought out the socks again!"

I flipped the second year off. He stuck out his tongue and called out to Professor Snape again.

"And she just flipped me off."

Professor Snape didn't even wait to hear my side of the story. His verdict was immediate.

"Detention! Now!"


	70. Rule #72

Rule #72: When fighting Death Eaters in the annual June battle of Good v. Evil, I will not lift my wand skyward and shout, "There can be only ONE!"

Students ran throughout the halls screaming. Well, the screaming ones were the younger ones. Once you reached your third year, the end of the year battle was pretty much old hat and you stopped screaming. Instead, you either hid out in the common rooms or you joined in on the fight.

I naturally joined in on the fight, which was taking place this year down by Hagrid's hut.

As I made my way to where the battle was taking place this year, I pushed first and second years out of the way, not caring if they fell through trick steps or rolled down the stairs. They were in my way and that wasn't acceptable.

As I stepped foot outside the school, I was nearly struck full on by a green spell. Thankfully I had great reflexes after spending most of my Hogwarts career running away from explosions and deflecting the occasional attack from a provoked first year.

"OI!" I yelled at the Death Eater that had shot the spell. "I'm a Slytherin! Respect my awesomeness!"

The Death Eater gave me a skeptical look but he directed his attack at a different student. It was good to know being in Slytherin house still stood for something among Death Eaters. And here I had been worried that things would go to hell under new management.

I made my way slowly down to Hagrid's hut. I would have moved a lot faster but sometimes in the midst of battle one has to duck the occasional misaimed spell or is confronted by a stupid Death Eater that didn't understand that I was. On. A. Mission.

"Damn it, stop attacking me!" I yelled as I was confronted for a fifth time. "I have important information to relay and I can only do that once I reach Hagrid's hut."

"Information for who?" the Death Eater asked. "Us or your professors?"

"For both of you!" I snapped. "Now let me pass or I'll hex you until your innards bleed and until your teeth rot and until worms eat every last bit of your heart!"

Yes, I can be morbid when I want to. The Death Eater's eyes widened and he moved away. I thanked him politely and moved on. I was vaguely aware of the Death Eater following me down to Hagrid's hut. Apparently I had made him curious.

Once I reached Hagrid's hut, I ran into a problem. I needed to be seen by everyone but it was total chaos. No one would listen to me. I turned to the Death Eater.

"Want to give me a leg up?" I asked.

"Why?" he questioned.

"So I can get on the roof," I snapped. "Now, if you would."

The good thing about Death Eaters is that they're very willing to obey orders. One just has to channel their inner Voldemort.

"Thank you," I said once I was on the roof. I directed my wand at my throat.

"Sonorus," I whispered, knowing that was the only way people could hear me.

"What are you doing?" Professor McGonagall demanded, noticing me on the roof. I waved her off and raised my wand to the sky.

"Everyone!" I began. "I have an announcement to make!" The fighting slowed and some battles even stopped. A few eyes were on me. I grinned and cleared my throat before making my big announcement.

"THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE!"

Professor McGonagall yanked me off the roof with a spell.

"If we get through tonight," she hissed. "You're in detention for the next month!"


	71. Rule #73

Rule #73: I should not refer to DADA professors as "canaries in the coal mine"

I think Professor Umbridge might have been just a wee bit sensitive.

Not to mention that she doesn't handle teenagers very well. I'm honestly surprised that she didn't have an aneurysm while she was teaching at Hogwarts.

If you haven't noticed by now, people in authority tend to really dislike me. I wouldn't go as far as saying that they hate me—how could they? I'm adorable—but we're not the best of mates either.

It was already determined by day one that Umbridge and I wouldn't get along. If you don't remember that day, I'll direct you back to rule number 6.

After that first torturous detention with the pink horror, I had no qualms about teaming up with the Gryffindors to make her teaching career as hellish as possible. I'm a girl. I'm allowed to hold grudges, especially against other females.

And yes, a female toad is still a female.

I left the more physical aspects of humiliating Umbridge to the Gryffindors. I focused my attentions on doing what Slytherins do best—spreading rumors.

I take full credit for starting the rumor that Umbridge was an American official that sold her soul to a toad demon and now needed to feed off the virgin, innocent souls of children. Of course, I don't know why she picked Hogwarts as her feeding grounds where the majority of the students are teenagers. After all, most teenagers are neither virgins nor innocent. Silly, silly Umbridge…

It was pretty common for Umbridge and I to get into arguments in the middle of class. I disagreed with her theoretical approach. Without practical lessons, I had no good reason to blow things up.

Once the day's objectives were written on the board, I raised my hand. Umbridge ignored it.

"Are we going to practice today?" I asked loudly after it had been a few minutes. Umbridge cleared her throat.

"No speaking unless I have called on you," she said. I rolled my eyes. I never followed that rule. Umbridge continued on.

"As I have said before, a theoretical approach will be sufficient to get you through your exams," Umbridge said. "Now silence."

I stuck my tongue out at her back. No one silences me.

"Theoretical approaches are bunk," I announced to the class with a loud sigh. Umbridge turned around to glare at me. I glared back and got to my feet.

"What's the point of even coming to class when we're forced to look at words and read books?" I asked.

"To learn, of course," Umbridge replied. I rolled my eyes and handed her a canary cream.

"Eat this," I told her. "So you can become what you truly are—a canary in the coal mine. And that's what you are. The Ministry sent you here to test the waters, never caring that you might fail. And you accepted the position, despite knowing the fates of your predecessors."

I sniffed haughtily and left the room, grinning as applause followed my departure. No one can pretend that I don't give great speeches. There was only one thing that ruined my exit.

And that thing was a pink toad yelling, "Detention!"


	72. Rule #74

Rule #74: I will not say the phrase 'Dude, get a life" to Lord Voldemort

So I may or may not act like I have suicidal tendencies. However, I'd like to claim that I was never really in any danger since I was hidden behind a pack of other students.

Let me take you back.

It was my sixth year and Harry Potter and his friends hadn't been to school all year. I really didn't care but then he had the gall to show up to take on Voldemort. When I found that out, I couldn't believe it.

Because it was like, really dude? Really? For once could the final battle between him and Voldemort not take place at Hogwarts?

Because I was really getting sick of my school getting destroyed. At first I was happy because I wasn't getting blamed for any of it but there's only so many detentions I can serve picking up trash and debris before I get bored.

And then he had to pretend to be dead! Why would someone pretend to be dead? While surrounded by the enemy?

Oh, wait…Maybe he isn't as dumb as I thought.

At that moment in time, I was also irritated with Voldemort because he had nearly killed my favorite professor. Most students actually thought he was dead!

So not cool.

And then Voldemort started his little evil villain monologue thingy. I really never understood why villains thought they had to give big speeches before they did something huge. It just takes away the entire shock factor. It makes things so dull! Dull, dull, DULL!

So I couldn't help myself. I never really did get a hang of that whole 'holding my tongue' thing. I tried but my tongue got sore and my fingers got wet and I couldn't talk.

The words came out of my mouth before I even realized what I was saying. I swear!

"Dude, get a life," I said as Voldemort continued to rant. He stopped for a second and scanned the student body to see who had said it, a look of pure rage on his face. The rest of the students were trying not to giggle.

Luckily Voldemort is one easily distracted wizard. Apparently he really wanted to finish his monologue. Professor Sprout gripped my ear tightly as he continued speaking.

"If you somehow manage to get through this, plan for detention with Filch," she hissed.


	73. Rule #75

Rule #75: I will not put books of muggle fairy tales in the history section of the library

So have I ever mentioned that Madam Pince hates me? Like really really hates me?

Because it's totally true.

Madam Pince thinks that I don't respect the books and her authority, which isn't true. I totally respect the books! I just sometimes disagree with her choices about where to put the books.

Because really, who puts muggle fairy tales into the Muggle Studies section? Why would you make it actually easy for people to find books?

Plus, all muggle fairy tales are based in history. I had a valid point for where I placed them!

I think it's safe to assume that I'm never serving another detention with Madam Pince again. She wasn't too happy by the end of the night.

Yes, that's right.

I got a detention while serving detention. I'm talented like that.

"You'll spend the next few hours putting away the books—without using magic," Madam Pince informed me. "And believe me, I'll know if you do. The book on the center of the desk will tell you which books go where in the library. I've already taken care of the books that go in the Restricted Section, so don't even think about trying to go in there."

I sighed. There went my idea of fun. Now I had to come up with something new.

I shuddered as I looked at the master book of books. It was bigger than I was! I didn't know that was possible.

As I began the process, I knew that there was no way I would be able to put away the carts of books by the time curfew started. I gave an obnoxiously loud sigh. Madam Pince glared at me. Muttering under my breath, I started the process of putting books away.

It took me less than an hour to get sick of doing things Madam Pince's way. It took forever and I didn't like the idea of spending the rest of my life in the library.

So I did things my way.

I grabbed a stack of books and started wandering around the library, depositing them where I think they belonged.

"Muggles and Nuclear War?" I read. "That'll definitely be history. Oh! How to Enchant a Goat! Definitely Potions."

I slipped the two books on the shelf and went through the rest of the pile.

"Alchemy for Dummies? That'll probably go in the Magic 101 section. Taking Care of Your Partner's Wand: A Guide to Sex between Wizards."

I blinked at the title, not quite believing that we actually had a book like that in a school library of all places. I slipped it under my robes to take back to my room with me. It would be a great present for Blaise Zabini, I decided.

There were three more books in my arms.

"Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, and Sleeping Beauty. These are easy! History!"

I shoved the three books in the history section.

"What do you think you're doing?" Madam Pince demanded, gripping my ear. I yelped.

"Putting away books like you ordered!" I replied. She glared at me and twisted my ear.

"Detention!" she said.

"But I'm already in detention," I whined. She twisted my ear even more.

"I don't care! Detention!"


	74. Rule #76

Rule #76: There is not now, nor has there ever been, a fifth house at Hogwarts. And I am not a member of that house, nor am I its founder.

I would be an awesome founder, if I do say so myself. The students in my house would be known for their bright minds, quick thinking, willingness to try new things, and creators of fun.

The creators of fun being the most important of those qualities.

I always thought it was silly that there were only four houses. Four is such an awkward number. Five is a better number because it is a prime number and because it is divisible by five.

At first I thought this was just a clever way to get around the rules of the school. After all, points can't be taken away if you're not a member of the four original houses. And it's not like anyone would dare give the founder of the fifth house a detention, right?

I thought so. Others…not so much.

"Five points from Slytherin," Professor McGonagall told me. I shook my head.

"Can't do that," I told her. She raised an eyebrow.

"Why not?" she asked. I grinned.

"Because I'm no longer a member of Slytherin house," I announced. Professor McGonagall sighed and rubbed her temples.

"You can't just change houses on a whim," she said. "We've talked about this before."

"I didn't change houses," I replied.

"Oh?" Professor McGonagall asked, crossing her arms. I nodded.

"I created my very own. I have decided that I am the founder and the first member of the Faye House."

Professor McGonagall sighed.

"Nice try but it won't work," she informed me. "Ten points from Slytherin house."

"But I'm not from Slytherin anymore," I whined. Professor McGonagall glared at me.

"Fine," she snapped. "Fifty points from whatever house and detention with me tonight."

"But—" I whined.

"Detention!"


	75. Rule #77

Rule #77: I will not refer to the Accio charm as "The Force"

Why does it have to be called a charm? Why?

A charm makes it sound so happy and bubbly. And trust me when I say I've come across a few charms that are anything but happy and bubbly. Not all of them can make pineapples tap dance.

I don't even like pineapples. I still don't understand why I had to make fruit that I'm allergic to dance. And besides, who even tap dances anymore?

Not to mention that remembering all those fancy words is hard work. Why did whoever created magic have to make things so complicated.

And great. Now that song is stuck in my head. "Why'd you have to go and make things so complicated?"

Because things can never be easy! Never! Life sucks that way.

So, it should be fairly obvious that if I can't remember spells, I can't remember my class materials. I'm always forgetting things left and right. Or is it right and left? Or up and down?

Ah, fuck it . Who cares.

I was in Charms one day when I forgot the most important thing. My wand.

Now, don't go off on me yet. Don't start saying "What sort of person forgets their wand of all things?" That thing is small and thin and it's not attached to my body. Of course I'm going to lose it.

But luckily there's The Force for things like that.

Except, I had forgotten that I need a wand to use The Force.

Professor Flitwick gave me a confused look when he saw me with my hands held out and a concentrated look on my face.

"What are you doing?" he asked. I pushed my hands forward, hoping that would call my wand to me.

"I'm using The Force to summon my wand," I replied. Professor Flitwick gave me a confused look.

"The Force?" he asked. I nodded.

"Yep, The Force. You know, you say a fancy word that begins with an A and it brings things to you. The Force!"

Professor Flitwick sighed.

"The Accio Charm?" he asked.

"That's it!" I cried. "Except, it's called The Force."

Professor Flitwick sighed again.

"Go get your wand," he said. "And if you can't respect charms by calling them by their proper names, they won't work for you."

I pouted.

"But I am calling The Force by its proper name," I said.

"Go." Professor Flitwick said. "Now. And if you aren't back in ten minutes, I'll see you in detention tonight."

I wasn't back in ten minutes. It's impossible to cross the school and run back in that amount of time. So guess what.

I had….

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

Detention.


	76. Rule #78

Rule #78: Albus Dumbledore's proper title is "Headmaster", not "My Liege"

I'm honestly surprised that I wasn't dragged to Dumbledore's office more frequently while I was at Hogwarts. Maybe it's because Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape realized that Dumbledore would just find me amusing and adorable and wouldn't actually do anything about the havoc I wreaked on the school.

I miss Dumbledore. He was an awesome guy. We only met a few times but I felt like we understood each other. He didn't expel me and I left him alone.

For the most part. There were a few times when I just couldn't resist the opportunities that were offered to me.

Headmaster sounds so boring as a title. Who wants to be known as the master of head?

Apparently Albus Dumbledore.

"So why are you here today?" Professor Dumbledore asked. Professor McGonagall stood behind me, arms crossed and glaring at the wall.

"I have no idea, My Liege," I said with a bow.

"Being disrespectful and being a disturbance," Professor McGonagall filled in. "And you address Professor Dumbledore with Headmaster, not My Liege."

I bowed again to Dumbledore.

"I apologize for her, My Liege. She doesn't understand my ways."

Dumbledore stroked his beard and smiled. Professor McGonagall's glare intensified.

"Also, for not listening to professors," she added.

"I'm sorry for any crimes I may have committed, My Liege," I said to Dumbledore with another bow.

"Headmaster, not My Liege," Professor McGonagall reminded me. I sighed.

"But he's not a Master of Heads, is he?" I asked. Professor McGonagall turned purple. Professor Dumbledore choked. "My Liege is a much better fit."

"Detention!"


	77. Rule #79

Rule #79: I will not tell Professor Trelawney that I prophesied her death

Some people are so overdramatic. It was just a little joke.

With somewhat deadly consequences. Depends on how you defined deadly.

Somewhat. No one was actually harmed in the making of this rule. Just their pride.

I thought it would be ironic, you know. Someone other than a Seer prophesizing the death of an actual—albeit sometimes fraud-like—seer.

I watched for Professor Trelawney for a few weeks. The most frustrating part of this is that she rarely comes down for meals. Something about it being bad luck or whatever.

Paranoid, bat-crazy woman.

Literally bat crazy. I had a two hour conversation about her regarding the different species of bats.

It was actually quite interesting. She nearly had me on the bat bandwagon.

Finally before the Christmas holidays, Professor Trelawney showed up at dinner one night. When I saw her sit down at the head table, I started bouncing in anticipation and joy.

It was the middle of dinner, when I put my plan into motion. I started shaking and jerking in my seat, like I was having a seizure. When I got enough attention, I started speaking random gibberish. I knew just enough of what other languages are supposed to sound like that I was able to make it sound like I was speaking in tongues.

I had considering adding two more tongues but I figured there wouldn't be enough room in my mouth. So, instead I just spoke in tongues.

Once I had the attention of the entire Great Hall, I got to my feet and pointed to Professor Trelawney.

"I have seen your future!" I gasped loudly. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape got to their feet and started approaching me. I continued to gasp and roll my eyes and jerk my body around.

"You shall die!" I gasped loudly. "When Pluto takes the place of the sun and when—" I yelped when a hand twisted my ear.

Professor Trelawney was shivering in her seat, inconsolable. Rumor has it that Madam Pomfrey had to sedate her three times before Professor Trelawney came even close to being calm.

"Detention!" Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape growled simultaneously.


	78. Rule #80

Rule #80: I will not use Slytherin and Gryffindor first years as Christmas decorations

I thought students were supposed to be involved in school. Teachers are supposed to encourage us, not to give us detentions when we try to be inventive. I thought creativity was a good thing.

Why do schools teach us such bull? Why don't they be honest and teach us things like conformity and how to make things up as you go.

I had offered to do some decorating for Christmas around the school to help out Professor Flitwick. It may or may not have been a way to get out of another detention and to suck up to Professor Flitwick.

Word to the wise—suck up whenever you get the chance. It does wonders for your future.

So, the night before I was supposed to start decorating, I snuck down to the kitchens to talk to the house-elves. It was surprisingly easy to convince them to do this.

"So, is an order from Professor Dumbledore himselves?" The head house-elf asked. I nodded.

"That's right!" I said. "Now just remember, all the clothes of the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years. No other years or houses."

The house-elves nodded.

"We will do that tonight!" the head house-elf squeaked. "Professor Dumbledore wills be very prouds of us. No piece of clothings wills be untouched."

"Great!" I said. "Thanks a lot. I and Professor Dumbledore really appreciate your help."

House-elves are adorable creatures and unbelievably helpful when you know how to manipulate them.

The next morning was highly amusing. I woke up to confused cries as the first years in my house dug through their robes and clothing to find something that hadn't been magicked green. Unbeknownst to them, a similar experience was taking place amongst the Gryffindor first years. It was highly amusing watching the first years slink off to their classes, clad in their green and red robes.

During our break, Professor Flitwick approached me where I was lounging in the Great Hall.

"Have you started decorating yet?" he asked. I nodded eagerly.

"I'll show you!" I said. I got to my feet and looked around. Thankfully it was winter and most students spent their breaks in the Great Hall. It took no time at all to locate a Gryffindor and Slytherin first year. I cast a body-locking charm on them, laughing as they fell flat on their faces. I then retrieved them and dragged them over to Professor Flitwick.

"So, this is how I've been planning to decorate," I told him. "Crabbe, Goyle! Lift these two up. They're going to be our tree toppers."

The first years' eyes widened as Crabbe and Goyle approached. Try as he might, Professor Flitwick was unable to prevent Malfoy's goonies from lifting the first years up by their underwear and attaching them to the trees. I clapped my hands.

"Fabulous!" I announced. "Good work decorating you guys!"

Professor Flitwick glared at us.

"Detention! All of you!" he squeaked.


	79. Rule #81

Rule #81: Calling the Ghostbusters is a cruel joke to play on the resident ghosts and poltergeists.

It's not like the Ghostbusters would have actually found Hogwarts. They're Muggles, after all. Hogwarts just looks like a pile of demolished junk to them.

For the most part, I don't have a problem with Hogwarts' resident ghosts. Most of them are actually pretty cool. Get it? Cool. Especially the Bloody Baron.

Of course, I may be biased when it comes to him. I am a Slytherin, after all.

Really, the only ghosts or poltergeists I have issues with is Professor Binns—mostly because he's a teacher and in a position of authority—and Peeves on the occasional basis. Peeves and I can be great friends but we can also be bitter enemies. We've got that whole love-hate relationship thing going on.

Don't tell my dad.

He's all for me making friends but only friends that can't naturally levitate. He'd have a heart attack if he found out that I was friends with a poltergeist.

Now let me tell you something. It was a bitch trying to find the phone number for the Ghostbusters. It was also a bitch trying to find a working phone. I tried calling 666-666 but that number didn't work. Never take a phone number from a movie. They normally don't work.

Granted, it probably would have worked better had I watched the actual Ghostbusters movie, instead of the spoof A Haunted House. Hilarious movie, by the way. Makes me want to make my own homemade movie about my time at Hogwarts. We already have the ghosts and poltergeists and invisible people sneaking about and an evil madman bent on killing everyone in sight.

Movie made.

Too bad video cameras don't work in Hogwarts.

Finally, with no other options left, I sent a Hogwarts owl with a letter to the Ghostbusters, since it was the only way of getting word out of the school available to students.

See, yet another reason why my time at Hogwarts would make a great horror movie. There's no way to escape the scene.

A few weeks later, there was a pair of dorks wandering around the edge of the Hogwarts' grounds. Muggle dorks, in fact.

Naturally, the professors panicked. Class was cancelled for the day, which was amazing, while the professors tried to get rid of the Muggle dorks. I'm going to guess that the dorks weren't the actual Ghostbusters, because they looked nothing like the posters.

What wasn't so amazing was being summoned that night to Professor Snape's office. Once I stepped foot in the office, a letter was handed to me.

"Was it really necessary?" he asked as I read the letter.

The letter read,

Dear whomever,

Please help. My school is full of ghosts. I am trapped. The address is—actually, just follow this owl back to his home. I don't know the address. They never told us.

Thanks a bunch!

Faye—you don't need my last name.

I grinned as I finished reading it.

"Yes, it was absolutely necessary," I replied.

Now, before I let you know Professor Snape's response, it's time for a brief commercial break.

My Time at Hogwarts will premiere June 6, 6666 in theaters. Yes, that's right. 6/6/6666. Don't forget and see you there.

And now back to the show.

Professor Snape sighed.

"Detention."


	80. Rule #82

Rule #82: If asked in class what the Avada Kedavra curse does, yelling "It does DEATH!" may be correct but is not the manner in which one should answer

At least I tried to answer a question. That's more than you get out of me most days. Normally I don't know the answer and if I'm asked a question, I panic and say random shit. If I wave my wand around, trying to practice a spell I don't know, usually stuff gets blown up.

Like I said, at least I tried to answer a question. However, I don't think Professor Moody was very impressed.

We had gone through the first two Unforgiveable Curses already. Professor Moody had used spiders as his test subjects, despite my suggestions that he use first years. That suggestion had been shut down fast.

Like super fast. Pity.

This was probably my favorite Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson of all time. It may or may not have something to do with the Cruciatus Curse.

According to my parents and my therapist, I take too much enjoyment out of seeing spiders squirm and shriek in pain. And yes, they learned about that. For the record, I didn't know that the Ministry could track spells on wands until Aurors showed up at our door, demanding to know why the Cruciatus Curse was being used on a nightly basis.

My parents were horrified and beyond embarrassed. My dad actually took away my wand for a week. Furious, I took my wand back while he was at work one day and left a dead raven in its place.

Take that Dad!

Like I said, there's a reason I was put in Slytherin and it wasn't just my knack to cause trouble.

Back to the story. Professor Moody had already demonstrated the Imperius Curse and the Cruciatus Curse. He turned to the class to ask his final question.

"Now, can anyone tell me what the final curse is?" he asked. My hand immediately shot up in the air and I bounced in my seat. Professor Moody called on me, but he seemed hesitant to do so. I have no idea why.

"The AK-47 curse!" I replied. My classmates snickered. Professor Moody blinked and then sighed.

"You mean the Avada Kedavra curse?" he asked. I nodded.

"Yup, the AK-47 curse," I replied.

"And what does it do?" Professor Moody asked. I stood up and pointed a finger at him and the jar of spiders.

"It does DEATH!" I said dramatically. Some of my classmates broke out into hysterical laughing fits. Professor Moody sighed.

"Technically," he agreed. "But that's not the best way to phrase it."

"But it does death," I whined. "Here, I'll show you."

I brought out my wand and the entire class of students immediately began to cower under their desks. Professor Moody lunged for my wand and grabbed it before I could even perform the curse. He grabbed his heart and breathed heavily.

"Detention!" he said


	81. Rule #83

Rule #83: I am not allowed out of my dorm when visitors from the Ministry are here

You know, I'm not going to really complain about this rule. It's given me a few holidays and every student loves holidays, especially those that occur for no reason.

Like snow days. If I hadn't gone to a boarding school, I would have loved snow days.

This rule mostly came about because of something I like to call "Foot in Mouth Disease". Are you surprised?

Ministry officials have come to Hogwarts off and on since my first year, so I've had a lot of fun days to hide out in my dorm. Of course, there were always a few times when I snuck out of my dorm and ran into the Ministry officials.

Actually ran into them and sent them to the hospital wing.

Yeah, turning corners aren't exactly my expertise. Especially near stairs.

The first time Ministry officials came around, I was sitting against the wall near a corner. Normally I protest at sitting on stone floors but desperate times call for desperate measures. And it was a desperate time.

I had a hangnail.

On my big toe.

So there I was, sitting on the floor near a corner, trying to bite of my hangnail off of my big toe when the Ministry officials came around the corner. The one in the lead tripped over me and, with a great yell, pitched headfirst down a set of stairs. The rest of the Ministry officials and the professor escorting them skidded to a halt.

I looked up, trying to pretend that my foot wasn't in my mouth.

Professor McGonagall sighed as she spotted me while the rest of the Ministry officials went to help their fallen comrade. I yanked my foot out of my mouth and struggled to put my shoes back on. I didn't worry about my socks. Socks are for geeks anyways.

Professor McGonagall rubbed her temple.

"Detention," she muttered.


	82. Rule #84

Rule #84: I am not allowed to lock Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy in a closet to see if hot gay sex will occur

Hey! Everyone was wondering. I just took matters into my own hands to see if speculation would become reality.

For the record, it didn't. I was really disappointed about that. In fact, the opposite occurred. They just hated each other even more.

The trickiest part of this whole scheme was getting Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter alone, with no friends around. I don't really know when going everywhere with friends became a "thing" but it was a real pain to work around.

Luckily it's easy enough to get rid of Crabbe and Goyle and Ron with food and Hermione with the rumor of new books being added to the Hogwarts library. It bought me enough time to lure Harry and Draco to the closet and lock them in.

The closet I used to lock Potter and Malfoy in was a closet that had originally been used to store potions. That meant most spells wouldn't work in the closet, in fear that it would contaminate potions or accidentally set things on fire.

"Where are you taking me?" Draco Malfoy demanded as I dragged him along.

"I found a secret passage!" I chirped. "It's amazing."

"And why are you showing me?" Malfoy wondered.

"Because I want you to test it out?"

Draco tried pulling away but I held on tight. I'm stronger than I look, despite being smaller than most of the general population.

"Shouldn't you use Crabbe and Goyle for this?" Draco asked.

"They're out of commission," I replied.

"What did you do to them?" Draco demanded.

"Nothing," I said innocently. "Except…"

"Except what?" Draco demanded.

"Nothing!" I exclaimed. "Oh, look! Here we are!"

Without another word, I opened up the door to the closet and shoved Draco in it, so that he collided with Harry, who was already inside.

Then, as the door locked, I sat outside it, a wide grin on my face and my ear pressed against the door.

For the longest time, there was the sound of arguing. Dull. Absolutely dull.

Then there was silence. I pressed my ear closer to the door to see if I could hear what I hoped was happening. Still nothing.

I sat outside the door for nearly two hours listening to silence. I nearly fell asleep a few times but stayed awake out of sheer determination. I wasn't about to miss the hot gay sex.

Unfortunately Professor McGonagall found me before it could occur.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Nothing," I whistled innocently. Professor McGonagall looked at the door and her eyes widened.

"Who's in there?" she demanded.

"No one," I said.

Professor McGonagall shoved me out of the way and opened the door.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Malfoy!" she said in surprise. The two boys looked relieved to see her. They both glared at me. Professor McGonagall also turned around to glare at me.

"Why did you lock them in there?" she demanded. I blinked innocently.

"To see if hot gay sex would occur? Everyone in the school is dying to know if it would or not."

Potter choked. Malfoy looked like he wanted to vomit. Professor McGonagall gaped at me for a few seconds.

"Detention!" she finally said.


	83. Rule #85

Rule #85: Ravenclaws do not find a sign saying "The library is closed for an indefinite time period" amusing in any sense

I know I shouldn't make fun of the Ravenclaws but let's be honest. Most of them are nerds and it's like an ingrained instinct for me that nerds should be made fun of.

Never mind that Ravenclaws, when severely pissed off, are capable of coming up with genius ideas for revenge. I had forgotten that when I put up the sign and when I finally remembered, I figured that they wouldn't be that mad.

Never underestimate Ravenclaws.

So, one night I couldn't sleep. Naturally I did the only thing students do when they can't sleep at night at Hogwarts.

I snuck out of the door.

Wandering around the school, I eventually made my way to the library. Why the library?

Because I was fucking running away from Filch and Mrs. Norris. That's why.

Once I knew that Filch and Mrs. Norris wouldn't be able to find me, I took a deep breath. Then, I began to panic as the doors to the library began to open. Weren't those things ever locked?

A Ravenclaw and I met eyes and nodded. The Ravenclaw snuck out of the library and I stepped inside. As the Ravenclaw turned the corner, I whistled for Peeves. At my whistle, he immediately began shouting.

"Students out of bed! Students in the corridors! Students out of bed!"

I enjoyed hearing the Ravenclaw get detention and a scolding for being out of bed after curfew. I was just glad that it wasn't me.

A few hours later, I was beginning to get tired, so I snuck back out of the library. On the way out, I grabbed a piece of paper I had scribbled on and posted it on the library door. Then, for the first time in years, I cast a locking charm on the doors.

The next morning was a sight to see. Nearly all of Ravenclaw house was standing outside the library, horrified. I wandered closer to see what the problem was and nearly broke down laughing.

The library is closed for an indefinite time period.

So that's what I had been scribbling last night. Huh. I didn't know that there were actual words in my scribbles. Actually, it looked kind of fancy. If I could, I planned to frame that and put it above my bed.

"Well, that sucks for you," I commented loudly. The Ravenclaws glared at me. I smiled and turned away, whistling innocently. I never expected what came next.

"She did this!" the Ravenclaw I had run into last night, pointing at me. "She was the last one in the library last night." The glares from all the Ravenclaws turned deadly and frigid. My eyes widened and I started running. The herd of bookish elephants pounded after me.

It was quite the sight to see. Me, sprinting all over the castle, being chased by an angry mob of Ravenclaws. The rest of the students were in hiding.

After a good hour of running, I took refuge in one of the few places Ravenclaws don't dare to go near-Professor Snape's quarters.

As I broke into his quarters, Professor Snape came out of his room. Upon seeing me, he shook his head.

"Detention," he grumbled before tossing me out of the room and into the waiting hoard of Ravenclaws.


	84. Rule #86

Rule #86: I will not attempt to recreate the Key to Time in Transfiguration class

"Your task today is to transfigure your pin into a key," Professor McGonagall announced. I grinned to myself. A pin into a key? That was easy.

Naturally I wouldn't be satisfied with a normal key. I wanted something epic. Something that showed that I could perfect this lesson.

An invisible key?

Too boring. Plus, I needed to return the pin at the end of the lesson. It would be hard to return an invisible object to Professor McGonagall. Knowing me, I would lose it and I couldn't afford to keep paying for items that I lost or blew up during lessons.

A key that whistled 1st Key by Lil Wayne? Eh…It's not exactly easy to whistle a rap, unfortunately. Plus, I needed to stay on Professor McGonagall's good side and rap wasn't the way to her good side.

I had learned that last week.

After staring at the pin blankly for a few minutes it hit me. The Key to Time! The pin was squarish to being with, so it would be easy!

I smiled to myself and began to wave my wand in random directions. I would succeed where the Black Guardian had failed! I didn't even need to find the pieces. I could just replicate what the Key to Time looked like and badda-bing! I would control the balance of the universe!

The thought of so much power made me shake in my seat. I hadn't noticed that my tablemate and moved tables, scared off by my vibrating.

I cast the first spell. The pin became more squarish.

I cast a second spell. The square pin became more cube-like.

I cast a third spell. The cube-like pin started becoming transparent.

I was getting ready to cast the fourth spell when Professor McGonagall decided to check on me.

"That's not a key," she stated from behind me. I jumped and my spell shot off across the room, hitting another student, who started becoming transparent.

"Yes it is!" I said. Professor McGonagall stared down at the partially transfigured pin.

"Do you know what a key looks like?" she asked. I pouted and crossed my arms.

"Of course I do," I grumbled. "And it is a Key. It's the Key to Time! I plan on becoming the holder of the Key to Time so I can control the balance of the universe!"

It sounded smarter in my head. Professor McGonagall shook her head as the bell rang.

"Set more manageable goals," she said. "And detention for not completing the lesson and for turning a classmate transparent."


	85. Rule #87

Rule #87: A time turner is not a flux capacitator, and I should therefore not install one in any Muggle cars

Well, if it's not clear how a flux capacitator works, there's still the chance that a time turner can be a flux capacitator. Just…

An oddly misshapen one.

It would be totally awesome to send a car back in time! That Back to the Future movie had the right idea. Except, instead of the car they used, I would use an Impala.

More specifically a black 1967 Impala. I would be like the Winchesters, except with the ability to travel through time.

Oooh! Or I could be Charlie.

Yeah, I could be Charlie. According to my housemates, I have that whole geeky thing going on.

Of course, before I could install a flux capacitator in an Impala, I had to do a few test runs. Since cars aren't exactly in abundance at Hogwarts, I had only one option.

The Weasley's flying Ford Anglia.

The plus? It could fly, which would make it even cooler when I installed the time turner.

The not so plus? It lived in the Forbidden Forest.

I usually tried to stay away from the Forbidden Forest. I liked to leave that for the experts, namely the Golden Trio. Why risk my life when it wasn't necessary?

Of course, acquiring the Ford Anglia was necessary. After a few hours of tripping my way through the Forbidden Forest, I found it nesting at the top of a large tree.

Stupid flying car. Of course it would have to make things difficult. I would have thought that it would avoid trees since its encounter with the Whomping Willow but apparently not.

While I was in the Forbidden Forest, I was unaware that there was a school wide search for me underway. I was too worried about other things, like Acromantula and trolls and flobberworms and unicorns.

Trust me, unicorns are deadly. Their horns are sharply, something that you're only really aware of when the unicorn is chasing after you, trying to impale you on its horn.

I'm not quite sure how I survived the first fifteen minutes in the Forbidden Forest, to be perfectly honest. I was traumatized for weeks afterward, though. I had nightmares about being stabbed by unicorns and eaten by flobberworms.

So as I was trying to climb the tree to talk to the Ford Anglia, someone at Hogwarts had the bright idea to use the Point Me spell to find me.

And that's how the professors of Hogwarts found me in the Forbidden Forest, climbing one of the largest trees around and getting stuck a third of the way up. As I hung from the branches, screaming my head up, the professors looked up at me.

"Do you want the honor or should I do it?" I heard Professor Snape ask.

"She's your student," Professor McGonagall replied. I screeched as I began to fall. When I came to, Professor Snape was standing over me with a potion vial in his hand.

"Drink up," he said, practically shoving the contents of the vial down my throat. "You need to be healthy for your next few nights of detention."


	86. Rule #88

Rule #88: I am not allowed to use silencing charms on my Professors

I can't be the only student that's done this. I really can't be.

However, I can understand why professors don't teach us silencing charms until our later years at Hogwarts. The charm itself it wasn't particularly hard to learn or perform. I think the professors just believe that by our later years, us students are more mature and know better not to misuse such charms.

Yeah, professors clearly don't know their students. If they give us fire, of course we're going to set off fire alarms and light dynamite.

Professor Snape was yammering on about Potions safety—because apparently the amount of paperwork he had to fill out after explosions was piling up to high on his desk—and I was bored of listening to the same thing over and over again. I had already heard this lecture three previous times. This week. And this was only our second class of the week.

Can I claim that I wasn't aware of what I was doing? Or insanity? I'd gladly go to St. Mungo's if I could just…not relive that day.

I didn't even know that I had my wand out. I was just daydreaming, tuning out Professor Snape's lecture, pretending that Professor Snape was silent, when he suddenly stopped talking.

That caught my attention. It usually means that someone did something wrong or that Professor Snape asked me a question.

Instead, Professor Snape was looming over me, mouthing words. I looked at him in confusion.

"Why aren't you talking?" I asked. Professor Snape's glare intensified. He continued mouthing words and gesturing at something on my desk. I glanced down and spotted my wand. Whoops.

Professor Snape continued to mouth words. I had the strange feeling that he was screaming.

I laughed nervously.

"Sorry! Sorry!" I said and tried to grab my wand. I may have missed it and my wand rolled off my desk.

Right into my cauldron.

Double whoops.

Professor Snape took a quick step back as the cauldron exploded. I laughed awkwardly as flames sprung up around the classroom.

Professor Snape glanced over at one of the other Slytherins and mouthed something. The boy nodded.

"Professor Snape would like me to inform you that you have detention," he said.


	87. Rule #89

Rule #89: I will not charm Hermione's time turner to rotate every half-hour

What's the point of someone having a time turner if I can't mess with it? I love messing with time.

I'm the type of person that would go back and forth in time just to mess with my past and future selves.

Which is probably the reason why my requests to get a time turner has been declined time after time. Stupid Ministry officials.

Girls just want to have fun. Why do they have to deny me my fun?

I wanted to experiment with time but since I didn't have my own time turner, I needed to take advantage of someone who did.

That someone being bushy-haired Gryffindor Hermione Granger.

She should really learn not to leave things locked in her trunk when she's in the shower. It was too easy to find her time turner stuffed in a pair of dirty, holey socks.

Before any Gryffindors could realize that I was, in fact, not Ginny Weasley and just a girl in a hideous red wig, I cast a random rotation charm on the time turner and snuck out of the dorm and the Gryffindor common room.

I thought I would have been caught as Girl Weasley entered the common room just as I was leaving but I guess the Gryffindors just assumed that I was a Boy Weasley. Slightly offensive but at the time I didn't care. Just as long as I wasn't getting into trouble.

It was highly amusing the next day to watch Hermione wander around in confusion, trying to figure out what time it was. No one could understand why I would break into laughter whenever I heard the bushy-haired Gryffindor ask what time it was. It was like my own little inside joke with myself.

Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall caught on two days later when she spotted one Hermione in the library, another confused Hermione in the corridors, a third in a random classroom, a fourth in a sixth year Transfiguration class, and a fifth in the Great Hall. It took most of the afternoon to figure out what the problem was. Apparently it's hard to correct spells when the person they're affecting gets sent back in time every half hour.

Let it be known that Professor McGonagall is amazing at putting one and one together to make two. I still don't know how she does it. I always get four.

Once the whole situation with Hermione was figured out, I got a card the next morning via owl. It was from Professor McGonagall, carried by her own personal owl. On the front was the picture of a spinning time turner. Inside was one word.

Detention.


	88. Rule #90

Rule #90: If the thought of a spell makes me giggle for longer than 15 seconds, I am to assume that I am not allowed to do it

So many spells. Hundreds. Thousands really.

So of course there are going to be spells that make me laugh. Doesn't mean that they aren't useful.

After all, that Engorgio spell was pretty useful. It just went horribly wrong when Professor Snape caught me.

I was in the Great Hall during my free period, researching spells for Charms. I had an essay due the next day that I hadn't started yet. It was a two foot essay on a charm of our choice.

There was the tap dancing charm that would make inanimate objects tap dance but that was so first year.

Then there was the thrusting charm, which would make anyone that came within a two-foot radius start obscenely thrusting and doing weird Muggle dances. However, that didn't catch my attention for very long. There were other, better charms out there. I just knew it.

There was also a spell that would create slip 'n slides on any relatively flat surface. The kicker? You could never be sure what liquid would come out of your wand to make it slippery. Sometimes it would be honey, sometimes it would wax, and other times…

Yeah, best not to think about it.

I also came across a charm that would randomly change a person's clothes at regular intervals. It had some funny costumes in its repertoire. A baby, a tooth fairy, a hillbilly, a lazy student…

By the time I reached the end of the book, I was practically dying of laughter. The students around me were giving me terrified looks.

One of the rules of the essay was that I couldn't write about the charm if I couldn't perform it.

So, to make sure I could write about these charms, I pulled out my wand. The students sitting at my table either ducked to hide under the table or scurried away to different tables.

I started waving my wand in the air when it was plucked out of my hand. I turned to look at the wand stealer only to see Professor Snape.

"No," he said.

"No what?" I asked.

"Don't even think about it," he said.

"But it's for school," I whined.

"Find something else," he said. "You're not getting your wand back."

"Why not?" I demanded.

"Because you were getting too much enjoyment out of that," he informed me. "Now start writing your essay."

I grumbled and turned back to my parchment. I picked up my quill and muttered obscene things under my breath.

I may or may not have called Professor Snape "a twat who thinks it's fun to sell his soul to the devil and to boil students alive in his potions".

Professor Snape whacked me upside the head with a book he had confiscated from another student. So he was still sensitive about that whole Death Eater thing then…

"Detention," he growled.


	89. Rule #91

Rule #91: I will not claim my X-Files tapes are "Auror Training Videos"

Fifth year was a great year for me. I wasn't like most students, panicking over O.W.L.s. I was of the mindset that if I passed, I passed and if I didn't, I didn't. I was also one of those students who had no clue what I wanted to do with my life after Hogwarts. I just knew that I would figure out something eventually.

Regarding those students that were freaking out, especially those that wanted to be Aurors, I saw an opportunity to make some money. After all, people will do crazy things when they want to succeed.

I had learned my lesson about Muggle electronics and how they work in Hogwarts. It can be summed up quite nicely. It's always a bad idea to try and use Muggle electronics in Hogwarts. No exceptions.

So, instead of risking explosions, I had bough some special videos in Hogsmeade. I used those to tape the X-Files, instead of normal ones. I may have blown up our VCR and recorder while trying to make these special tapes but I learned how to use the next one. You just had to make sure the wires were attached in the right spots and that those wires don't somehow attach themselves to any outlets.

"Auror Training Videos for sale!" I called down the hallway. "Pass your O.W.L.s with flying colors! Don't worry about exams no more! Auror Training Videos for sale!"

I had made a pretty decent sale within the first fifteen minutes. Apparently there were a lot of kids at Hogwarts that wanted to be Aurors. I suppose it had something to do with the fact that we had a Dark Lord running about, followed by a mob of crazed followers.

Or it was the fact that being an Auror was prized among wizards just like being a brain surgeon was prized among Muggles.

Whatever the reason, I made a good amount of money that day.

Of course, I could have made more if I had gone about it more subtly. But who needs subtlety?

Subtlety is for losers.

"Auror Training Videos for sale!" I called down the hall. I turned the corner and ran into a large black object. I ran into it hard enough to knock me down.

I stared up at Professor Snape from my position on the ground.

"Auror Training Video?" I offered to him, holding out the videos. Professor Snape gave a heavy sigh.

"Detention," he said.


	90. Rule #92

Rule #92: When being interrogated by a member of staff, I am not to wave my hand and announce, "These are not the droids you are looking for"

"Where were you last night?" I blinked as Professor Snape loomed over me.

"Me?" I asked. Professor Snape nodded.

"In bed?" I suggested. To be honest, I'm not quite sure where he thought I was. There are only so many times I can sneak out of the Slytherin dormitory before it gets boring.

"And why don't I believe you?" Professor Snape asked. I shrugged.

"Because you don't?" I said. "I don't know what goes on in your mind. To be honest, I don't think I want to."

Professor Snape glowered at me.

"Someone broke into my storeroom last night," he said. I blinked.

"Good for them?" I said. "It wasn't me. Trust me, you would have known had I been experimenting with ingredients in your storeroom."

"Well, it's not the first time you've broken in," Professor Snape pointed out.

"What's your point?" I asked. Professor Snape glared at me.

"Did you or did you not break into my storeroom last night?" he demanded. I opened my mouth to reply but stopped myself. Knowing Professor Snape, I was going to get in trouble either way. So, what the hell.

I was going to have fun.

"Pardon?" I asked, adopting a French accent. Professor Snape seethed.

"Did you break into my storeroom last night?" he demanded.

"Nani?" I said, changing the accent from French to Japanese. Professor Snape glared at me.

"Did. You. Break. Into. My. Storeroom. Last. Night?" he demanded.

I waved my hand in front of my body.

"These are not the droids you are looking for," I said in a robotic tone. A vial on Professor Snape's desk shattered. I gaped at it and then looked at Professor Snape.

"That was so cool!" I said. "Do it again!"

"Detention!" Professor Snape yelled.


	91. Rule #93

Rule #93: I am not a member of the Spanish Inquisition

Who needs the Inquisitorial Squad when you've got the Spanish Inquisition? The Spanish Inquisition was much more widespread and effective than some "Inquisitorial Squad".

I've always liked being a part of big things.

And I had received a set of red dress robes for Christmas. Add a crucifix and bam! I became the Spanish Inquisition.

Students are always great subjects for reenacting the Spanish Inquisition. They're always guilty of something.

"Mr. Finnigan, what did you say?" I overheard Professor McGonagall ask.

"I don't know," the boy replied. "I was just told to come in here and tell you that. I don't know what it means."

"So why did you say it?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Because I didn't expect the bloody Spanish Inquisition," Seamus Finnigan replied. My eyes widened.

Did he?

Yes he did.

I ripped off my robes, to reveal my new red dress robes and a large crucifix around my neck. I burst into the room.

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!" I cried. "Our chief weapons are surprise and fear!"

Professor McGonagall gave a loud sigh.

"Seriously?" she muttered to herself. "Seriously?"

Seamus Finnigan looked relieved. I didn't know what he had said but he seemed glad I was there. Probably because he guessed that he wasn't the one going to be getting a detention.

I jumped onto a desk and pointed at Seamus Finnigan.

"Have you been practicing witchcraft or sorcery?" I demanded. He gave me an odd look.

"It's Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he said. "Of course I have."

"An admission of guilt! Then ye are hereby charged with witchcraft!" I announced and gave my best evil laugh. "Ye shall be hanged on the morrow!"

"Take that off!" Professor McGonagall snapped. "And stop threatening your fellow students!"

I pointed at her.

"Have you been practicing witchcraft as well?" I demanded. Professor McGonagall took a step forward and glared at me, arms crossed.

"What do you think?" she asked. I held my crucifix up to her.

"Be gone, witch or demon! Be gone!" I cried. Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes and ripped the crucifix from my hands.

"Detention!"


	92. Rule #94

Rule #94: Albus Dumbledore is not my personal Jesus

Albus Dumbledore could be Jesus. After all, every year he fed the masses out of nothing but a few words at the start of the year. And he died for the students of Hogwarts.

Yeah, the thought of his sacrifice still hurts.

However, those things mean that Dumbledore is the wizarding world version of Jesus and you can't say anything to convince me otherwise.

I miss all of Dumbledore's random miracles. Especially those that proved the Ministry of Magic wrong. The Ministry members could be the Jesus haters and Dumbledore is Jesus, just trying to dance his way through life.

Dumbledore's death hit the school hard. That night, the entire school—with the exception of a few notable students—was outside, looking upon Dumbledore's body. Several students were sobbing. However, I don't think it had fully hit me. According to Professor Sprout, I was muttering things about how Professor Dumbledore had never turned blood into wine.

Hehehehe…Whoops. Apparently the whole thing about Dumbledore being Jesus was still wandering about my mind at the time. No wonder I had been brought to Madam Pomfrey, who treated me for something she called "shock".

Her treatments didn't work. Instead, the potions she gave me just made me hyper.

Remember how all the stories say that Jesus came back to life three days later?

Well, it was a lot longer than three days before Dumbledore's tomb reopened.

What a waste of time. Dumbledore should have never left the school. It went to hell after he died. Death Eaters as teachers? Definitely hell. Professor Snape no longer the Head of Slytherin House? Pure hell. I actually missed my daily visits to his office.

When I saw the light streaming up from Dumbledore's tomb. How was I supposed to know that it was only Voldemort? When I thought it was Dumbledore, I was overjoyed. He had finally risen from the dead.

Not bothering to get into my robes, I ran down the corridors screaming,

"He's alive! My personal Jesus is alive! Dumbledore's alive!"

Running down the halls screaming that Dumbledore was alive probably wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done. The Carrows were furious that one of the greatest enemies of the Dark Lord was alive again. They nearly had a panic attack because you know…

Try telling Voldemort that Dumbledore pulled a Harry Potter.

I'd pay big money to see that.

Naturally, the Carrows went after me. I still ran around the Great Hall screaming,

"Jesus is alive! My Jesus is alive! Dumbledore lives again!"

Alecto Carrow was preparing to curse me for causing a scene but Professor McGonagall stepped in.

"I got this," she said, before grabbing the back of my shirt and dragging me away.

"Detention," she muttered.


	93. Rule #95

Rule #95: I am not authorized to negotiate a peace treaty with Voldemort

Pity. I'm a great negotiator. Do you know how many detentions I've negotiated my way out of?

Believe me. I would have had twice as many detentions if I sucked at negotiating. Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall are the only professors that know not to negotiate with me. They just assign a detention and that's the end of that. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Or ors…

When I negotiate, I prove that I'm a Slytherin through and through. I make sure my neck is saved and screw everyone else!

This happened shortly after sixth year began. I was sick of Potter and his gang sitting around and doing nothing so I took matters into my own hands.

"Professor Snape!" I shouted, hammering on the portrait that guarded his door. Its subject had fled the moment it had seen me coming. "Professor Snape!"

When Professor Snape didn't answer, I kicked through the portrait and dug my way in.

That's right. I kicked through the portrait. I figured it would be easier to fix something like that than if I had burned the thing.

As I tumbled into Professor Snape's quarters, I realized something. It was the middle of the day, so Professor Snape was probably in class.

Oops.

I also didn't know how to hook up the Floo by myself, so I had to wait until he came back. It wouldn't take too long. Knowing the man, he had alarms all over his quarters.

So, while I waited, I did what any normal person would do while waiting.

I took a nap on his couch.

When I woke up nearly two hours later, Professor Snape was standing over me with a giant scowl on his face. It was probably one of his most terrifying ones to date.

"Hi!" I chirped as I sat up.

"What on earth possessed you to enter my quarters?" Professor Snape asked in a dangerously low voice. I wish I was a guy sometimes just so I could talk that low.

"I need to borrow your Floo," I replied. Professor Snape's eye twitched slightly.

"Why?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"I need to negotiate a peace treaty with the Dark Creepy Lord Almighty Lord Voldemort," I said with a bright smile. Professor Snape's eye twitched again.

"OUT!" he roared. "GET OUT! DETENTION FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR!"


	94. Rule #96

Rule #96: I will not follow potions instructions in reverse order just to see what happens

I thought the brilliance of a Potions' Master or Mistress was determined by how willing they are to experiment.

I'm very willing to experiment.

In more ways than one.

Besides, Professor Snape should have known by then that the potions we brew in class either have to be really interesting or they have to take the entire class time to brew for me to be sufficiently occupied. So really, when you think about, it was Professor Snape's own fault. After all, he was the one that decided to make fourth years brew a second year potion.

Naturally, I became bored. I had successfully completed my potion and I didn't want to start on the theory work. So, I decided to experiment with a second potion.

Professor Snape was clueless. He was too busy lecturing the Gryffindors about one thing or another.

I read the bottom ingredient of the potion. Two newt eyes. I tossed in four.

Then the instructions told me to stir twelve times clockwise. I stirred seven times counterclockwise.

I alternated in that manner, reading the instructions from the bottom up. Three salamanders' tails became one and one lime became three. Stirring six times counterclockwise became thirteen times clockwise. One time clockwise because two spins of the cauldron.

It went surprisingly well. The potion didn't begin to act ominous until after the sixth ingredient. Then it began to bubble.

I whistled cheerfully. As I was about to toss in a handful of lavender, a hand on my wrist stopped me. The hand tightened painfully around my wrist.

"Don't even think about it," Professor Snape warned. I scowled.

"I'm doing fine!" I protested and accidentally stepped on his foot. That's right. Accidentally.

Professor Snape let go of my wrist and I tossed in the lavender. A second later, Professor Snape yanked me away from the cauldron, which was beginning to melt.

"Students on the desks!" Professor Snape snapped before turning to glare at me. "As for you…"

I yawned and his glare became even chillier.

"Detention!"


	95. Rule #97

Rule #97: I will not claim there is a prequel to Hogwarts, A History that explains about Bilbo Baggins

This happened during my first year, when everyone was freaking out about the Chamber of Secrets being opened. I still don't understand why people were so terrified. It's not like we actually knew what we needed to be afraid of. We didn't find out that it was a basilisk until after the creature was dead. And really? A basilisk? It's just a giant snake that can kill with a single look. What's so terrifying about that?

I was probably one of the few students that year that didn't freak out. I wasn't a Muggleborn, so I knew that I was safe. After all, who could hate me?

One morning, during all the height of all the panic, I came across Fuzzy-Haired Granger, who was scouring the bookshelves for a book in the library. Surprise, surprise.

"What'cha looking for?" I asked innocently, approaching her with a bright smile. She gave me a wary look.

"I'm looking for Hogwarts, A History," she sniffed.

"They're all out," I said. "I heard Madam Pince griping about it. Want the prequel instead?"

I tried to make my smile as innocent as possible but I'm sure some deviousness snuck through. I love messing with Gryffindors.

"That's impossible," Fuzzy-Haired Granger said with a skeptical look. "Hogwarts, A History starts with the time of the Founders."

"But what about before that?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips.

"There wasn't a Hogwarts before then so there was no need to write about it."

"Lies!" I shouted. "There's a prequel!"

Fuzzy-Haired Granger raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

"Prove it," she snapped. I glared at her before turning around and reaching in my bag. I pulled out the first book I saw. The Hobbit.

I chucked the book at her head. Unfortunately, Fuzzy-Haired Granger ducked.

"What did you do that for?" she demanded.

"You told me to prove it," I replied. "And that was the prequel."

Fuzzy-Haired Granger went to look at the book. She scowled when she saw the title.

"Very funny," she said. I continued to glare at her. After a minute, Granger sighed.

"Madam Pince!" she called. "I've just been attacked!"

"Oh, bloody Merlin's pants," I snapped before tugging my book out of her hands and starting to run away. I was too slow, though. As I was leaving through the library doors, Madam Pince caught sight of me and immediately shouted,

"Detention!"


	96. Rule #98

Rule #98: "OMGWTF" is not a spell

I couldn't help it. I panicked.

I always panic when I'm asked a question I don't know on exams. Things were just made even worse because it was my O.W.L.s.

I probably should have studied for those instead of trying to figure out the best way to make an exploding pie.

On the bright side, exploding pies are now my specialty. I like to give them to others as birthday gifts.

And Christmas gifts.

And Valentine's Day gifts.

And half-birthday gifts.

And Get Well Soon gifts.

And basically any other occasion when I can give people gifts.

After awhile, the surprise factor was lost but I still continued to give those gifts anyway. It was still fun for me and that's all that mattered.

So there I was, in the middle of my Defense Against the Dark Arts Ordinary Wizarding Level when I got asked a question.

"Cast a shield charm."

I blinked, mind going blank.

"What?" I asked.

"Cast a shield charm," the proctor repeated. My mind was still blank.

"Uh…" I said, trying to stall for time. Having a feeling that I wasn't going to remember the spell, I said the first thing that came to mind.

"OMGWTF!" I shouted, waving my wand around. I didn't expect anything to happen.

But you know the saying…

Expect the unexpected.

Purple flames burst out of my wand, nearly burning the student next to me. The desk caught fire, along with all the O.W.L results so far.

Oops.

I laughed nervously as the proctors glared at me, putting out the purple flames. Professor McGonagall rushed in, having heard the commotion. Her eyes immediately landed on me.

I groaned, already knowing what was coming next.

"Detention!"


	97. Rule #99

Rule #99: I will not, under any circumstances, ask Harry Potter who died and made him boss

The final battle. The last end of the year battle between good and evil. The last time the Death Eaters would invade Hogwarts.

It was awesome!

Though, I got in trouble a lot that one night. But how could I resist? It was the perfect night to wreak havoc!

My problem with authority is well known but most people assume that's just with teachers and the occasional Ministry worker since they never see me rebelling against my parents.

But here's the thing. I have an issue with anyone who's in a position of authority. Including seventeen-year-old wizards who think that they can win a war just because they defeated a Dark Lord when they were a baby.

I never have an issue with my parents because we made a deal before I went off to Hogwarts. We became more like partners and they were no longer in a position of authority over me.

We got along fabulously after that.

I stood in the Great Hall that night, with my arms crossed, listening to Harry Potter talked about what he needed. What he needed. What he needed at the time was a lot of man power to take down the hoard of Death Eaters that were hammering at the door.

His plan sounded absolutely ridiculous to me. It made no sense whatsoever. If I was in charge, I would have been out there trying to negotiate a peace treaty. And when that failed, I had numerous ways to make something explode.

Explosions are the best way to take out more than one person at a time. That was the most important thing I learned while at Hogwarts.

I couldn't help it. I was thinking of all the ways that I could be so much better than Harry freaking Potter and it just slipped out.

I didn't even know I had said it out loud until everyone was staring at me in horror.

"Who died and made you boss?" I had asked. Immediately Potter's face fell. I clapped a hand over my mouth.

"Sorry," I apologized quickly trying to make things better. "I forgot about your parents…and Sirius Black…and Moody…and Dumbledore…"

A hand gripped my ear and I yelped.

"Stop talking," Madam Pomfrey ordered me. I nodded quickly and she let me go. I turned to Potter once again.

"Seriously, boss, if people were going to die for you, step up your game a bit," I said. Madam Pomfrey gripped my ear again.

"Detention," she snapped.


	98. Rule #100

Rule #100: I am not allowed to introduce Peeves to paintballing

For the record, I wasn't expecting this to go as poorly as it did. I figured that the Bloody Baron would rein Peeves in after a few hours.

I really wasn't expecting to have a case of a missing ghost.

And I definitely wasn't expecting Peeves to go after me.

Honestly, where's the respect? I taught him about paintballing. One does not attack the teacher.

Unless, you know, there's a really, really good cause or you're about to die.

"So I just shoot?" Peeves asked. I nodded.

"But you can't shoot it if you're within a meter or two of the person," I warned. "Unless it's a Gryffindor. If it's a Gryffindor, go right ahead. I don't care about them."

Peeves cackled manically and took off the with the paintball gun. Judging by the screams, I could tell that he found a group of first years outside of the Great Hall. I grinned and trotted after Peeves. I couldn't wait to see this.

Peeves had gotten into the Great Hall and all the students were cowering under the tables. Some of the teachers were doing so as well. Only the Heads of Houses were trying to control Peeves.

I was wondering why Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout were involved when I spotted a group of people huddled in a corner, watching and frowning at Peeves' antics.

Ministry officials. Naturally.

Peeves swooped down and aimed the gun at me. I scowled as he grinned mischievously.

"Don't you dare," I growled. Peeves shot. I yelped as paint splattered on the front of my chest, covering my robes.

"You bloody buggering fucker!" I screamed and attempted to tackle Peeves. His eyes widened and he tried to zoom away but I had caught him by surprise. I grabbed him by his foot and yanked him down to eye level.

"You're going to pay for that!" I said and proceeded to snatch the paintball gun away from Peeves. The poltergeist struggled free and I took aim, ready to get him back.

I missed.

Well, I missed Peeves. My first round hit one of the Ministry of Magic officials. My second one hit Professor McGonagall.

Oops?

She glared at me and I tried to pretend I didn't have the gun.

It didn't work.

"Detention!"


	99. Rule #101

Rule #101: I am not allowed to refer to Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, and Justin Finch-Fletchley as Blossom, Buttercup, and Bubbles

So I occasionally make fun of Hufflepuffs. Doesn't everybody? They make it too easy and I'm not one to pass up the perfect opportunity. And it's really not my fault that most Hufflepuffs are so sensitive.

Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, and Justin Finch-Fletchley were always seen together. They were like the Hufflepuff version of the Golden Trio. I figured they deserved a nickname like that but what I came up with just wasn't working.

It's really hard to come up with a trio name for a bunch of goody-two-shoes. All the cool names are for badass people and all the other cool names are already taken.

Then it hit me. Badass goody-two-shoes?

Call the Powerpuff Girls, made with sugar, spice, and everything nice.

Though I don't get how spice is nice. I've met some dangerously spicy spices. My tongue still hasn't recovered since that last encounter with a dangerous spice.

Once I came up with that nickname, I decided to spend the day with the Hufflepuffs.

I plopped down across from Bones, Abbott, and FF. That's right. FF because Finch-Fletchley is an annoying mouthful. They stared at me warily. They clearly hadn't forgotten the bees incident.

"Hiya," I said.

"What do you want?" FF demanded.

"Nothing, Bubbles," I said. "I just want to eat breakfast."

FF choked on his food.

"What did you just call me?" he asked.

"Bubbles," I said. "Stop asking stupid questions.

"Bubbles?" FF questioned. "Why are you calling me Bubbles?"

I sighed.

"Because you're Bubbles now. That's Buttercup—" I pointed to Abbott. "And that's Blossom." I pointed at Bones. FF made an odd sound of disbelief.

"Would you rather be Blossom?" I asked. FF's eyes narrowed.

"No," he grumbled.

"Too bad. You're now Blossom. It fits you better."

Apparently FF doesn't like the color pink because he lunged across the table, enraged. I ducked and he overshot, landing on the floor between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor table. He accidentally kicked a Gryffindor in the head as he fell.

It was hilarious.

The Gryffindor got insulted and before I knew it, there was a brawl between the Hufflepuffs and the Gryffindors. Buttercup, Blossom, and Bubbles were kicking ass naturally but they were no match for the Golden Trio.

And then the teachers had to get involved.

Fun suckers.

Normally the professors give everyone involved in the brawl a detention. I hadn't been involved, so I was expecting to get out of a detention.

Yeah, right.

Apparently I'm not that lucky. Because I was sitting somewhere other than the Slytherin table, Professor Snape automatically assumed that I was involved. He began to drag me back to my classmates.

"Detention, tonight," he said.


	100. Rule #102

Rule #102: I will not cast the occasional Obliviate spell on Dumbledore, even if it would be amusing

I really didn't think that it would be that noticeable if I cast an Obliviate spell on Dumbledore. There were already rumors that he was going senile so I just thought that people would assume that was what was happening.

Professor Snape tells me that I need to be subtler in my spell casting. It's probably true. Subtlety is not my specialty. Never has been.

But it's not like I went up to Dumbledore, whipped out my wand, and cast an Obliviate on the man when he was sitting at the head table in the Great Hall. I'm not that obvious.

I made sure that we were in a corridor, with other students around so I could either blame them for casting the spell or say that I was aiming for someone else.

It didn't work out the way I had planned. It never does. It always seems to go to hell in the first few minutes.

Much like when the Golden Trio plans something. I would fit in with them perfectly if it wasn't for the fact that they had unreasonable grudges against anyone with Slytherin attached to their past.

Stupid, stuck-up Gryffindors. Us Slytherins are perfectly normal.

For the most part.

I was trailing after Dumbledore, laughing to myself. The students around me were giving me strange looks before moving away. Usually when I start laughing to myself, students give me a wide berth. They tend to not like being in the same area as me when explosions are happening.

The headmaster was walking down the hallway between classes when I snuck up behind him. I bounced up and down to try and get a good shot at the headmaster. Thankfully Dumbledore is taller than first and second years. It made my job a lot easier.

"Obliviate," I whispered. The spell shot out of my wand and hit Dumbledore in the head. The headmaster stumbled and looked around.

"Where am I?" he asked. Students began to scream.

Overdramatic little shits. It was just an obliviated old man. It wasn't like Voldemort had invaded Hogwarts.

That would come later.

I cackled. Students screamed even louder. A Gryffindor would later claim that they thought Bellatrix Lestrange had been the one laughing.

Such a sweet thought. It has always been my goal to be compared to Bellatrix.

The professors came running when they heard the screams. I wondered why they were so prepared but then I realized that exams were just a week away. They were preparing for the end of the year battle between good and evil.

I really need to work on my timing.

"Where am I?" Dumbledore kept asking. "What am I doing here? Who are you?"

Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey weren't very happy with me. Apparently it's difficult to restore the memories of an obliviated person.

Oh well. Since when have I enjoyed making things easy for adults?

We learned some very interesting things that day.

Like the fact that Professor Dumbledore wears nothing but socks underneath his weird robes.

The man had gotten confused as to why he was wearing a dress and began to strip.

I saw some things I never wanted to see, along with every other student in the hall. That would have been punishment enough in my opinion but none of the professors agreed with me.

It took less than a minute for students to begin ratting me out. I should cut off all their fingers for all the pointing they did that day.

Professor Snape was not amused when he saw me trying to escape around the corner. He silently cast a body-binding spell at me, which sent me toppling to the ground.

That didn't stop me. I tried to roll myself away but it's hard to roll around corners while avoiding stairs at the same time.

"Detention!"


	101. Rule #103

Rule #103: I am not allowed to give the Gryffindors Pixie Stix

Especially the Creevey brothers. They're hyper enough. They don't need all that extra sugar. I, on the other hand, do. There is never such a thing as too much sugar.

I've gotten really good at sneaking into the other Houses common rooms. I don't even need to know the passwords. I just annoy the entrances enough that they'll do whatever I want just to get me to leave them alone.

As an April Fool's Day gift, I snuck into the Gryffindor common room and left piles of Pixie Stix on all the chairs, couches and tables. I had sent a letter to my parents asking them to buy up all the Pixie Stix from the nearest stores. In reply, my father had sent along a box big enough that it took three owls to transport. Three!

Of course, included in the package was a note saying that my father had just gone to an American grocery store and bought them from someone named Sam at a club. Whatever that meant. I didn't really care as long as I got my Pixie Stix.

When the Gryffindors came down to the Great Hall a few hours later, I was highly amused. Quite a bit of them had red runny noses from sniffing the Pixie Stix.

Word of advice. Don't sniff something if you don't know what it is. You never know what the results might be.

One of them might just be a Slytherin singing Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer whenever you or your friends come into view.

Yeah, Gryffindors really hate Christmas songs when it isn't Christmas. Along with most of the school.

Most of the Gryffindors had avoided the Pixie Stix. Those were the boring ones.

However, there were a handful of Gryffindors that were literally shaking from the amount of sugar that had entered their systems. Naturally it was the Weasley twins and the Creevey brothers that were affected the most. The two pairs that already had a lot of energy.

Of course, their energy was no match to the energy I had on days when I was tired.

Gryffindors really need to learn how to handle their sugar better.

I should have known that things were going to go bad the minute Creevey 1 stood on top of the table. He ripped off his shirt, yelling,

"I am Superman!"

Yeah, I'm sure he is with that scrawny chest of his.

The rest of the students laughed but then Creevey 2 got up on the table.

"I am Batman!" he cried.

You really have to wonder what's up with those Creevey boys. I mean, not many would duel pretending to be Superman and Batman.

Superman won by the way. Just in case anyone was wondering.

Well, let me make that clearer. Superman would have won, had the professors not interfered. They're good at interfering. Quite annoying, really.

As Professor McGonagall was attempting to break up the duel, Professor Snape looked over at me.

"Did you have something to do with this?" he asked.

"Nope!" I tried to look as innocent as possible. Professor Snape sighed.

"When was the last time you had a detention?" he asked.

"A few days ago. Why?"

"Detention," Professor Snape said. My jaw dropped.

"But why?" I demanded. "What did I do?"

"Double detention for talking back."

"Well, fuck you!"

"Triple detention!"


	102. Rule #104

Rule #104: I will not lock the Slytherins and Gryffindors in a room together and take bets on which house will come out alive

Oh, come on! We all want to know who would win! Don't deny it.

This could have been like the Hogwarts versions of the Hunger Games if I hadn't done a handful of things.

Like lock them up in the middle of the week. I probably should have gone with a weekend so it would have taken the teachers longer to realize that two entire houses went missing.

I also should have locked them in the room at night most likely. Not in the middle of the day when classes were going on.

And I probably shouldn't have gone to the teachers' lounge to take bets once I had collected them all from the students.

Yeah….I really shouldn't have done that.

At least I didn't have to worry about Professor McGonagall or Professor Snape while I was taking bets. I had locked them in with their students as well.

I'm still pretty impressed that I managed that one. I can't believe they fell for such a first year trick.

I knocked on the door to the teacher's lounge. The Gryffindors and Slytherins had already been locked up for about an hour.

"What do you want?" Madam Hooch asked with a sigh.

"Anyone want the chance to make money?" I asked. Immediately all the teachers in the room exchanged looks.

"How?" Madam Hooch wanted to know.

"It's just a game of odds," I said. "And ends. But mostly odds."

"I thought we decided that you weren't going to take bets anymore," Madam Hooch reminded me. I rolled my eyes.

"About professors," I replied. "And this isn't about professors. This is about Houses. Who do you think will come out alive? Gryffindors or Slytherins?"

A few of the teachers in the room groaned. Madam Hooch looked around. Realizing that Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall weren't anywhere to be found, her jaw dropped in horror.

"Tell me you didn't," she said.

"But I did," I replied. She groaned.

"Do you have a death wish, girl? Go let them out!"

"Only when one House has won," I protested.

"Get them out of that room before Professor Snape kills you! Now!"

I jumped. That was the scariest I had ever seen Madam Hooch look.

"Fine," I whined and started to drag my feet.

"And detention for trying to take bets again!"


	103. Rule #105

Rule #105: I will not give Hagrid Pokémon cards and convince him that they are real animals

I had to keep Care of Magical Creatures interesting. I mean attacking hippogriffs and Blast-Ended Skrewts are so last year.

And let's face it. Pokémon beats anything Hagrid could come up with.

"These are actual creatures?" Hagrid asked skeptically. I nodded.

"They're inside the cards," I explained, batting my eyes innocently. "They've been trapped inside with magic. You have to sing a song to get them to come out."

Hagrid's eyes lit up in delight.

"What's the song?" he asked. I grinned and began to sing.

"I will be the very best

Like no one ever was

To catch them is my real test

To train them is my cause

I will travel across the land

Searching far and wide

Each Pokémon to understand

The power that's inside

Pokémon it's you and me

I know it's my destiny

Pokémon!"

Hagrid glanced down at the cards.

"Nothing happened," he pointed out. I shrugged.

"I wasn't trying," I said "It's the will behind the song that matters. You have to want them to come out."

Hagrid frowned. I could tell he wasn't quite sure if he believed me or not but before I could say anything, he looked outside.

Shit.

"What are you doing outside the castle?" he roared, realizing what time it was. "It's the middle of the bloody night!"

"I couldn't sleep?" I tried.

"Get back to bed!" Hagrid said. "Detention!"


	104. Rule #106

Rule #106: I will not teach the house elves to impersonate Jar Jar Binks

Not many students know about the house elves, so I thought I would be safe. Of course it wasn't the students I needed to be concerned about. It was the professors.

And all the professors know about the house elves. A few of them even check in on the creatures every other day because they like dealing with house elves. And to get extra food.

Because, really, with me in Hogwarts, they're lucky if they can eat a full meal during mealtimes. Usually something explodes or something goes wrong and they're forced to abandon their meal in order to protect their students or the castle.

Of course, I also spend a large amount of my meals in detention as well, so I learned about house elves fairly quickly at Hogwarts.

They're adorable.

And creepy at the same time.

Adorable plus creepy equals creeporable.

Creeporable. I like that word. I must teach that to the house elves next.

I knelt down so that I was at eye level with the house elves.

"Got it?" I asked. They nodded in unison. Another creeporable act.

"Good! Have fun!"

I thought that was the end of it but I didn't expect that Professor Snape to come in right after I left. Sure, I saw him in the corridors as we passed each other but I didn't think that he would equate my presence to being behind the house elves' antics.

I wasn't even out of the corridor before he was yelling for me to come back.

I started running but apparently he sent the house elves after me.

"Dis is nutsen! Oh, gooberfish!"

"Go away!"

"Whoa! Yousa guys bombad!"

"Go back to the kitchens!"

"Uh…on second thought, no. Not really no."

"What?"

"I spake."

"What?"

"Oh. Yousa point is well seen. This way! Hurry!"

"Wait, what?"

While I was distracted, one managed to sneak up behind me and transported me back to the kitchens. Professor Snape was standing in the middle of the kitchens with his arms crossed.

The house elf deposited me on the floor in front of him. I landed on my arse and yelped in protest.

"Ohhh! Ay, ay! Aahaii! How wude!" I told them. Professor Snape glared at me.

"Detention!"


	105. Rule #107

Rule #107: I will not sing The Badger Song during Hufflepuff-Slytherin Quidditch matches

I've never really been one to support the team that everyone else supports. I prefer to cheer for the underdogs or for the other team just to be…you know…

Different.

Plus, the Hufflepuffs have badgers as their mascots. Badgers are way cooler than some dumb old snakes.

And it's not like I cared what my housemates thought of me. Remember—honey badger don't give a shit.

So there I was, jumping around on the bleachers, singing off-key at the top of my lungs and jumping in time.

"Badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger!"

"Oi! Shut it!" A Hufflepuff called.

"Mushroom! Mushroom!"

"Can it!"

"Badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger!"

"Get back with your own house!"

"Mushroom! Mushroom!"

"For the love of Merlin, sing something else!"

I shrugged at that one. I had a ton of badger songs in my arsenal.

"If you want to be a Badger, just come along with me

By the light, by the light, by the light of the moon.

If you want to be a Badger, just come along with me,

By the bright shining light of the moon."

"I think I preferred the other song."

I grinned at Luna and went back to my original song.

"Badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger!"

"Why are you so annoying!"

I grinned at the frazzled Hufflepuff.

"A snake! A snake! Snake! Snake! Ooo Snake!"

The Hufflepuff ran off. I continued to bounce around on the bleachers.

"Badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger!"

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around. I let out a high-pitched scream as I nearly ran over Professor Snape. He didn't look very happy.

"Detention!"


	106. Rule #108

Rule #108: I will not tell first years that they should build a tree house in the Whomping Willow

Why are there so many rules about first years and the Whomping Willow? If the professors at Hogwarts really wanted to be efficient, they would just have two rules.

Rule one, I am not allowed near the Whomping Willow nor am I allowed to direct anyone toward the Whomping Willow.

Rule two, I am not allowed to talk to first years. End of story.

Really, that would be much more efficient.

It would take up less parchment.

And there would also be fewer rules to remember. I only have so much brain space!

And it's really not my fault that they send us new Firsties every year.

"Do you know what Hogwarts needs?"

That was a first year Slytherin because a first year Slytherin is the only type of first year that would think Hogwarts actually needs something. Every other first year is awed by Hogwarts until they come back for second year.

"What?" the Ravenclaw he was talking to asked.

"A tree house."

"A tree house? What's a tree house?" My mouth dropped open. This was almost unheard of. A Slytherin knowing of a Muggle contraption and a Ravenclaw not?

I was impressed.

"A house built in trees, moron," the Slytherin snapped. "How did you get into Ravenclaw?"

"Oh, shut it," the Ravenclaw snapped. "Why would you want a tree house?"

The Slytherin shrugged.

"Why not?" he asked. I scooted my chair over to the table they were talking at. The wheels screeched across the floor and I looked around nervously. Good, I hadn't attracted Madam Pince.

"If I may interject," I said. "If you want to build a tree house, I know the perfect tree."

Both the first years looked skeptical.

"You do?" they asked. I nodded and grabbed their arms, dragging them to the nearest window.

"That tree!" I said, pointing out the Whomping Willow. "It's the tallest one on school grounds, unless you go into the Forbidden Forest."

"It looks like a good tree for a tree house," the Slytherin murmured.

"Then go get started!" I said. "Screw studying! Go build a tree house!"

"Oi!"

I jumped when I recognized Madam Pince's voice. I turned around and looked at her nervously. She didn't look very happy.

"Don't listen to a word she says. Ever," Madam Pince told the first years. I rolled my eyes.

"Why you gotta ruin all my fun?" I asked her. She glared at me.

"Detention!" she snapped. "And get out of my library!"


	107. Rule #109

Rule #109: I will not douse Harry Potter's Invisibility Cloak with lemon juice to see if he will become visible when wearing it and standing near the fire in the Common Room

Do you know how hard it was to actually obtain that Invisibility Cloak? I can only break into the Gryffindor so many times before I get caught by Professor McGonagall.

And it was nearly impossible trying to get a hold of the lemon juice. When I looked at the market, all I could find were those tiny little bottles in the shape of lemons.

Bloody useless. I don't need a bazillion little bottles. I just need one huge-ass bottle!

So I did the only thing I could think of.

I broke into Professor Snape's office.

Again.

Yes, that's right. Again. But the first time isn't important.

Once I had the lemon juice in my hands, I made my way up to the Gryffindor common room. It was nearly three in the morning, so I was expecting everyone to be asleep when I snuck in.

The common room was empty thankfully but I still had to get the Invisibility Cloak. I wasn't looking forward to sneaking into the boys' dormitory.

Is it just me or do boys' dormitories always stink? I can't pinpoint the smell exactly but it seems to be a mixture of wet dog and moldy socks.

I didn't want to spend a lengthy amount of time in there but apparently the Invisibility Cloak is called the Invisibility Cloak for a reason. It's near impossible to find unless you know where you put it.

Still, I managed to find it. I'm that awesome.

Awesome enough to trip over it and let out a loud yelp and still not wake up an entire dormitory of boys. That was an accomplishment. Even more so when I realized that I hadn't knocked over anything. Probably the first time in my life.

I grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and raced down the stairs back to the common room. Then I grabbed the lemon juice and began spilling it all over the Cloak.

I sneezed. Lemon juice is very pungent.

When I sneezed again, I realized that I wasn't alone. Sure, I had sneezed but that wasn't just my sneeze I heard.

I turned around and saw Professor McGonagall standing by the portrait hole. Her arms were crossed and her nose was red.

"H-hey, McGoogles," I said. Then my eyes widened as I realized what I said.

"McGonagall! I meant McGonagall!" I said quickly as Professor McGonagall's lips tightened. She stalked over and grabbed the Invisibility Cloak from me, grimacing as the lemon juice dripped onto her hands.

"Detention."


	108. Rule #110

Rule #110: I will not tell first years that Moon Prism Power is a basic Transfiguration spell

Oh those gullible Firsties. They crack me up.

"I don't know what to study for our Transfiguration exam," I heard a first year whine. I grinned. Oh exams. I didn't bother studying for those. I considered them a waste of my time.

But I was always happy to help others study.

"Moon Prism Power," I said, bouncing over to them. The first years frowned.

"But we've never learned anything called that," one pointed out.

"It's a secret part of the exam. Professor McGonagall puts it on the exam knowing that students will fail it. She's messed up in that way."

"But I don't want to fail any part of the exam!" a first year girl protested.

"Then just remember the words Moon Prism Power," I said. "It's a guarantee pass if you know that. And it's such a basic spell. You can do it wandless!"

"Really?"

I nodded and skipped away.

You know, I wouldn't have been caught but I had to just watch and see how things went. I wanted to see if any had truly fallen for my trick.

So, I camped outside the Transfiguration classroom while first years had an exam. I was supposed to have a History of Magic exam but this was more entertaining. Besides, who needs History of Magic?

I giggled when I heard the first first year say, "Moon Prism Power!" I chuckled when a second first year also announced, "Moon Prism Power!"

I was in full out hysterics when the fifth first year went for Moon Prism Power as well. Apparently I'm more convincing than I thought.

Eventually Professor McGonagall came out to see what all the commotion was about. There she found me rolling around in my tent, laughing and having difficulty breathing.

Yes, that's right. I literally camped out. Complete with tent, campfire, and bags to shit in. I went full out.

Professor McGonagall sighed upon seeing me. Her nose wrinkled and she glanced at the ceiling of the corridor where I already had hung a few shit bags. There were two hanging. The third had fallen onto some random Hufflepuff. I think it was the one called Zacharias Smith.

"Detention."


	109. Rule #111

Rule #111: I will not yell "Believe it…or not!" after any of Dumbledore's speeches

Hey, Dumbledore was the one giving epic speeches. Not me.

I just decided to make the speeches a bit more epic.

I also wanted to make the mood in the Great Hall more cheery. Honestly, people were acting like someone had died.

Did I mention that this happened at the end of my third year, after the Triwizard Tournament was being wrapped up?

So, I guess when you think about it, something actually had died.

Oops.

Dumbledore had altered his end of the year speech to include a eulogy for Cedric Diggory. Then he said the thing.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

The words were out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying.

"Believe it….or not!" I cried, standing on the table. Professor Snape glared at me from his spot at the head table, along with all the other students in the Great Hall. I smiled sheepishly and sat down.

Dumbledore continued to speak.

"There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death," Dumbledore went on. "I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

I stood up again.

"Believe it…or not!" I cried.

Professor Snape stood up from his spot. My eyes widened and I started running away. I didn't want him to catch me. I knew what sort of trouble I would be in once that happened.

Professor Snape followed me out of the Great Hall, glaring and muttering under his breath. Once the doors to the Great Hall closed, he had no qualms about shouting.

I think his voice echoed throughout the entire castle.

"Detention!"


	110. Rule #112

Rule #112: Bringing fortune cookies to Divination class does not count for extra credit

Well, if I were actually passing Divination, I wouldn't have had to worry about extra credit. Therefore, it's all Professor Trelawney's fault, really.

I thought that this was genius. I felt that fortune cookies captured the art of Divination perfectly. Sometimes the message was deep, sometimes it was hilarious, and there was always a cookie of disgusting crap around it.

Besides, we were still working on tea leaves. What goes best with tea? Cookies! There's no doubt about it.

So I thought I was being smart. Not only were the fortune cookies extra credit, but they were also snacks for when I got hungry during class.

"Go to bed with an itchy bum, wake up with a stinky finger," I read to my tablemates, who giggled. I cracked open a new fortune.

"The end is near and it is all your fault!" I announced. How I wished at that moment that Potter was in my class but unfortunately that wasn't the case.

"Help! I am being held prisoner in a Chinese bakery!" By now the entire class was listening in.

"How much deeper would the ocean be without sponges?" I read. I tilted my head. That was actually a very good question. I would guess that it would be a lot deeper.

"A palm can say a lot. Especially when it smacks." The entire class was in hysterics now. Glad to know that my yearmates are easily entertained. I opened up my last cookie.

"You will receive a fortune cookie," the last one read. I rolled my eyes. No shit.

"I predict you will receive something else very soon," I heard Professor Trelawney announce. "Tonight, at eight o'clock."

My eyes widened. I really hoped that didn't mean…

"You shall receive a detention!"


	111. Rule #113

Rule #113: My name is not "The Dark Lord Happy-Pants" and I am not allowed to sign my papers as such

Signatures are such fun. Especially when they look nothing like your name.

I don't understand the point of making your autograph look like a bunch of scribbles. Aren't we supposed to be learning about being mature adults? I don't think scribbling makes us look mature.

And it's not like the professors actually read our signatures. They only care about the name on the top of the paper, not the bottom. I've tested this theory multiple times.

I've signed my name as Puggles, Cuddly Mufkin, Are You Really Reading This, I Bet Not, Hello, The Doctor, Professor of the Big Bang, and Can You Really Not Tell I'm Making Shit Up. All based off of what I thought my signatures looked like at the time.

Oh! And I signed my name with a cloud once! And a dissected frog!

The only professors that actually pay attention to such things are Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape.

Sometimes I forget in those classes that I have to sign my name regularly. It's not normal for me to do so and it always feels awkward.

"Everyone sign your papers and hand them in," Professor Snape announced. "Once they're on the desk, you can't take them back."

I quickly signed my name as The Dark Lord Happy-Pants (something I had been signing for about a week at that time) and brought it up to the desk. Professor Snape barely glanced at it and I didn't realize my mistake until I was about to sit down again.

My eyes widened in horror and I dashed to the front of the room again.

"Pardon me, Professor Snape, I need my paper back," I said.

"No," Professor Snape replied.

"But it's urgent," I pleaded.

"You know the rules," he said. "Now sit down."

I wasn't about to sit down. Not until I got my paper back.

I saw the pile on his desk and lunged for it. In the process, I managed to clear off the rest of the desk, including Professor Snape's coffee, vials of the swelling potion we had to complete today and Professor Snape himself.

Oops.

The coffee spilled over all the papers, ruining them for grading. I could hear a few students cursing and moaning about that. Others were cheering.

Professor Snape got to his feet. Somehow, he still managed to look intimidating with his nose and arms swelling.

"Detention!"


	112. Rule #114

Rule #114: There is no such thing as the Chamber of Double Secret Probation

I was just trying to help Professor Snape. Honestly!

I knew how Professor Snape desperately wanted the Golden Trio to be expelled and for Gryffindor House to be shut down, so I figured I would do some digging. Anything to get on Professor Snape's good side.

And thus the Chamber of Double Secret Probation was formed to give my actions some legality.

At least, in my mind.

I found a lot.

Most of it was related to the Weasley twins. No surprise there.

Also, did you know that Hogwarts used to have a unicorn as a pet? But that unicorn was long gone due to spells gone wrong.

Maybe that was the same unicorn that had its head mounted on the walls somewhere in the dungeons. I can't remember where exactly but I remember seeing a unicorn head hanging around.

Letting a unicorn loose in the school would be a sure way to get the Golden Trio expelled. I just had to get it up to the Gryffindor common room. Hopefully without being gored.

So I sent an order in to a unicorn sanctuary under the business name Chamber of Double Secret Probation.

It would have worked had Professor Snape not told all the school owls to deliver my messages to him first so he can review them.

I think that could be considered an invasion of privacy.

The afternoon after I sent out the message, Professor Snape called me to his office.

"Why are you requesting a unicorn to be delivered to school grounds?" he asked. I shrugged.

"It seemed easier than actually going out in the forest and catching one," I replied. Professor Snape sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Detention," he said.


	113. Rule #115

Rule #115: I will not attempt to magically animate my marshmallow Peeps

I always wanted my dream of having Peeps taking over the world, directed by me, to be fulfilled. Sadly, it hasn't yet.

When it does, trust me, you will know.

I wanted to get a head start while I was at school. Besides, it's not like I spend my time in school doing homework. I consider my inventions to be homework.

I still fail. It's quite sad.

Since we learned how to make a pineapple tap dance in first year, it really wasn't that hard for me to animate Peeps in my fourth year. It was surprisingly easy, actually. I didn't even have to use my wand!

I thought it was adorable. There were Peeps walking up and down the table during the Easter feast and no one was complaining. That was especially surprising because it was the Slytherin table. There's always a Slytherin complaining about something.

We've perfected the art of complaining.

Trust me when I say that I wasn't expecting the Peeps to form their own miniature army. They did that all on their own!

In hindsight, that may have been a side effect from not using my wand. The magic included my intentions in the spell, not just the spell itself.

Stupid magic. Why does it have to be so complicated?

The change was instantaneous. One minute I was daydreaming about Peeps taking over the world and the next minute, they were marching toward the head table.

Props to them for getting in formation so quickly. That was impressive.

The professors didn't think too much of it until the Peeps started climbing up on them. A few of them laughed but that was apparently what the Peeps were trying to achieve. Spotting open mouths, the kamikaze Peeps decided it was best to move in.

I didn't know they could move that fast.

Still, it brought Chubby Bunny to a whole new level.

As the Peeps attempted to choke the professors by shoving themselves in their mouths, students began screaming and running around. I sat at the table in disbelief.

Professor McGonagall spotted me and glared. She attempted to say something but another Peep crammed itself into her mouth.

"Fee—en—on—"

"Sorry, what was that?" I asked. Professor McGonagall reached into her mouth and yanked out the marshmallow Peeps.

"Detention!" she shouted.


	114. Rule #116

Rule #116: I will never ask Harry if his scar senses are tingling

Let it be known that Professor McGonagall is very protective of her Slytherins.

And that I wasn't actually siding with Umbridge and the Ministry. I was just trying to play devil's advocate.

Unsuccessfully, might I add.

Believe me. I'd rather get gored by a unicorn and chewed up by flobberworms than be put on the same side as Umbridge. Not all Slytherins agreed with her methods!

I was just getting sick of Potter proclaiming that Lord Voldemort had returned. It gets really annoying when you hear the same thing day after day after day after day after day. Especially when there was no real proof.

Now I don't know about you but I don't trust anything that I'm told that doesn't have hardcore evidence behind it. But I'm not too picky. Any evidence will work. Even a stick figure drawing.

My parents got me to believe that snowmen would come to life at night and rearrange themselves into graphic depictions of horror movies and the oncoming spring by showing me Calvin and Hobbes comic strips.

I would have believed Potter if he said that his scar senses were tingling.

Of course, my quest for evidence came out a wee bit sarcastic.

I still haven't mastered the art of sarcasm.

So Potter was whining in the halls one day about Voldemort being back and I decided to confront him.

"I don't understand why they don't believe me when I say Voldemort is back," Potter sighed.

Before any of his friends could respond, I decided to butt in.

"Well, do you have any proof?" I asked.

"Dumbledore," Potter replied. I rolled my eyes.

"Dumbledore is not proof," I said. "Unless he in fact is Voldemort. But he isn't now, is he? Actually…that wouldn't surprise me at all."

I was surprised that Potter didn't hex me right there and then.

"What kind of proof do you want?" Potter asked instead. I smirked.

"Well, are your scar senses tingling?" I asked. "Are you having one of your mystical woo-woo visions?"

You know, I should really start looking around before I speak. It would save me a whole lot of trouble.

Like in this case for example. I had no idea that Professor McGonagall was going to be around and I had no idea that she'd take it so personally.

The shout came out of nowhere. It was the most terrifying thing ever. It took forever to get me off of the ceiling.

"Detention!"


	115. Rule #117

Rule #117: Voldemort is not Ganondorf and the Triforce is not hidden in Hogwarts

I was just trying to explain to first years why the castle was being attacked. I'm still not sure why there were first years that had no idea that there was a war going on but it happened.

It's hard to explain shit like this to first years. A lot harder than you think. You can't just say, "The castle is being attacked because Voldemort is a homicidal freak of nature that didn't get enough hugs as a child and is taking out his sexual frustration on the world."

Trust me, it doesn't work. I've tried.

So I had to put it in terms that first years would understand.

Like video games. First years love video games, right?

So I chose the only one I knew.

Legend of Zelda.

"Anyone play Legend of Zelda?" I asked. Most of the Muggleborns raised their hands. I didn't understand why they were raising their hands. We weren't in class. We were running from bloodthirsty Death Eaters.

I don't know about you but I don't think that's a situation one should be raising hands in.

"Okay, so here's what's going on," I said, focusing on the Muggleborns and dodging a spell. "In terms that you can understand. Voldemort is Ganondorf and he is searching for the Triforce, which is hidden somewhere in Hogwarts."

The group of first years stopped and stared at me. Then they started screaming and running in different directions.

"Bloody hell," I grumbled. It had taken ages to round them up and now I had to do it the first time. Professor McGonagall, who had put me in charge of the first years (I still don't understand that one) glared at me. Before she started helping me round them up, she had one word for me.

"Detention."


	116. Rule #118

Rule #118: I will not sing the entire Multiplication Rock series during Arithmancy exams

So I have a hard time with numbers. It's not that unusual. And it's not all numbers, mind you. It's just threes and sevens and thirteens and any number that is considered "magical" or "lucky".

So I really don't understand why I chose to take Arithmancy. Maybe I like suffering.

It would certainly explain why I kept getting detentions throughout my years at Hogwarts.

So, like many students, I chose to memorize my problem numbers by learning songs.

Of course, most students don't need to sing the songs out loud. Unfortunately, I need to. Otherwise, it would get pushed out by the other thoughts trying to crowd in my mind.

So there I was, in my fourth year final exam for Arithmancy and the biggest problem on the exam just happened to deal with the number three.

I wanted to cry when I saw that. The problem with the most points and I was almost guaranteed to fail it. Don't you hate that feeling?

I tried singing in my head. I really tried! It just didn't work. I kept getting sidetracked by images of Voldemort in a dress.

So I did the only thing I could. I sang.

Thankfully there were only fifteen other students in the classroom trying to take that final exam.

"Three is a magic number.

Yes it is, it's a magic number.

Somewhere in the ancient, mystic trinity

You get three as a magic number.

The past and the present and the future,

Faith and hope and charity,

The heart and the brain and the body

Give you three.

That's a magic number."

I was totally not aware of the other students glaring at me from the front of the room. Totally.

Okay, so I knew. I didn't care though. I had been promised money if I passed my finals and I like money. Money is good, despite being the root of all evil.

"It takes three legs to make a tri-pod or to make a table stand.

It takes three wheels to make a ve-hicle called a tricycle.

Every triangle has three corners,

Every triangle has three sides,

No more, no less.

You don't have to guess.

When it's three you can see it's a magic number.

"A man and a woman had a little baby.

Yes, they did.

They had three in the family.

That's a magic number."

A throat cleared. I ignored it.

"3, 6, 9... 12, 15, 18... 21, 24, 27... 30.

3, 6, 9... 12, 15, 18... 21, 24, 27... 30."

A throat cleared again. This time I looked up, prepared to chew out whoever was clearing their throat and being so distracting. I was trying to take a test!

Then I noticed it was our professor. I decided it probably wasn't a good idea to chew out our professor.

Of course, I rethought my decision moments later when I heard the word that would define my last day of the year at Hogwarts.

"Detention."


	117. Rule #119

Rule #119: I will not charm the suits of armor to do a rendition of 'Knights of the Round Table" for the Christmas feast

I'm not so sure it was the song that made the professors mad. I'm pretty positive that it was more due to the fact that I used a spell that only professors are supposed to know.

Honestly, I'm offended that they weren't more impressed by this. Not only did I obtain that spell through secret means, but I also didn't use it for evil. I was just trying to get everyone in the holiday mood, including the suits of armor.

I also made sure that the suits of armor didn't harm anyone. It wouldn't be very Christmasy if heads were being chopped off.

Unless you were a Tudor. Then it was great fun.

Had I actually been at the Christmas feast, I doubted I would have been caught but sneaking in late apparently sent up some red flags.

Why does Professor Snape have to be so all-knowing and all-aware? It's like he's a spy or something.

As I attempted to sneak in to the Great Hall through a side door, the suits of armor barged through the main door.

I may or may not have let out an evil laugh upon hearing all the shocked screams.

Then the suits of armor began pounding their axes and spears and whatevers on the ground for a few beats before beginning to sing,

"We're Knights of the Round Table,

We dance when ere we're able,

We do routines and chorus scenes

With footwork impeccable.

"We dine well here in Camelot,

We eat ham and jam and spam a lot.

We're Knights of the Round Table,

Our show are formidable,

But many times, we're given rhymes

That are quite unsingable.

"We're Opera mad in Camelot,

We sing from the diaphragm

a looooooot.

"In war we're tough and able,

Quite indefatigable,

Between our quests we sequin vests,

And impersonate Clark Gable.

It's a busy life in Camelot,

I have to push the pram a lot."

At least the students cheered. I sat down but unfortunately I just had to look at Professor Snape. Had I not, I probably could have gotten away with being oblivious.

Yeah, not the case. I just had to look and I had to see Professor Snape point at me and mouth,

"Detention."


	118. Rule #120

Rule #120: I will not call Professor McGonagall "McGoogles"

I couldn't help it! It just sort of slipped out.

It probably didn't help that I'd been calling her that in my head for years. I was bound to slip up eventually.

I can't be the first one to do this, though. The transition from McGonagall to McGoogles isn't that hard.

I was so close to getting through Hogwarts without slipping up. So close. I just had two more years.

Just my luck…

If I hadn't been so distracted, I would have been fine. However, during Transfiguration I had been planning how to tie up a first year and lower them down the Astronomy tower to clean the windows and spy on anyone inside.

Note to self, never write down notes about future plans in the middle of class. It doesn't look very good to the professors.

As I was drawing out my plans, Professor McGonagall called my name and stepped in front of my desk. I tried to shove the piece of parchment I was drawing on under my books but I just succeeded in pushing the books off my desk and onto McGonagall's feet.

She glared at me.

"Perform the spell on the board, please," she said coolly. I saluted her.

"Sure thing, McGoogles," I said, trying not to laugh nervously. Her glare intensified to the point where I wanted to start shaking.

And I don't shake easily. That was her worst glare yet.

"Detention."


	119. Rule #121

Rule #121: I am not allowed to make lightsaber sounds with my wand

Well what else am I supposed to do when I'm bored in class? Certainly not take notes. And I can't sleep all the time. It would mess up my sleeping schedule and it took years for me to get that schedule down to an art.

And I can't do the same thing over and over again. I'd just get even more bored.

So that's when I came up with the idea to pretend my wand was a lightsaber. Basic, but it was something I hadn't done for years. Normally I like to avoid all that Star Wars stuff but I was running out of ideas.

"Hey Girl Weasley!" I whispered, poking Ginny in the back of the head. "Girl Weasley!"

She turned and glared at me before turning back around. I poked her in the back of the head again.

"What?" she hissed, not looking very happy.

"Want to play a game?" I asked. Girl Weasley looked at me like she couldn't believe I was asking such a question. She turned around without a word.

I gave her a wet willy in return. She yelped at the sensation and drew out her wand. I grinned and began waving mine like a lightsaber, making the appropriate noises.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" she asked me.

"Fighting you with a lightsaber," I replied. "Now fight back you mewling coward! You faceless twat!"

"Language!"

I jumped as Professor McGonagall swooped over to where we were sitting. She promptly confiscated my wand.

"Detention!"


	120. Rule #122

Rule #122: "Draco Malfoy Takes it Up the Arse" is not an acceptable Quidditch chant

So I may be a wee bit competitive when it comes to Quidditch. Just not in the way one would expect.

I'm competitive in the fact that I have to come up with the best chants of the game. Who do you think came up with Weasley is Our King?

Certainly not Malfoy. He's not as brilliant as I am.

So it's really not all that unsurprising that I was at the game, jumping between the seats and shouting at the top of my lungs.

"Draco Malfoy is a slapper,  
He takes it up the arse,  
And when he's shagging Potter,  
He thinks of Dumbledore

"Draco Malfoy is a slapper,  
He really is quite thick  
But when he's shagging Potter  
He thinks of Filch's dick"

A few of the students began scooting away from me, looking slightly repulsed. I grinned evilly.

"Draco Malfoy is a slapper,  
He really likes it up his  
And when he's shagging Potter  
He thinks of Severus

"Draco Malfoy is a slapper  
He likes it on the fence  
And when he's shagging Potter  
He thinks of our defense"

Apparently I was singing loud enough that a few of the professors overheard. I had wondered why Professor Snape started to make his way over to the student section. I just thought he wanted to say hi.

"Draco Malfoy is a slapper,  
He loves giving head,  
But when he's shagging Potter,  
He thinks of Weasley Fred.

"Draco Malfoy is a slapper,  
He takes it up the arse,  
And when he's shagging Potter,  
He thinks of Voldemort"

"DETENTION!" Professor Snape shouted over my singing.


	121. Rule #123

Rule #123: I will not dress up as Voldemort for Halloween

I have to keep the professors on their toes somehow.

And it was a simple enough costume. I just needed a robe, face paint, and red contacts.

And some way to get rid of my nose for the day.

That was the toughie. Finally I just flattened it with tape. It didn't completely work but I didn't exactly feel like chopping off my nose with an axe. And I certainly didn't trust anyone to do it for me.

Especially those that volunteered.

I don't think the students completely understood who I was trying to be. Of course, most of them had never seen Voldemort directly. I, myself, was just going off of descriptions in the Daily Prophet that Dumbledore had given until they shut him up.

As I walked down the hall to breakfast, I attempted to do that swooping thing that Professor Snape does.

I immediately tripped over my robes.

I don't know how he does that. It takes more skill than I realized. Of course, Professor Snape probably has years of practice.

Wait! Is that what he does in his spare time? Practice his swooping?

Everything makes sense now!

Unfortunately I didn't even make it to the Great Hall with my awesome costume. I ran into Professor Snape on the way.

His eyes widened in brief horror until he realized that it was just me. Apparently my costume was more accurate than I thought.

When he realized it was me, he scowled and grabbed me by my ear and started dragging me back to the common room.

"Go change!" he ordered. "And detention!"

"Bloody tart," I grumbled under my breath. "Silence or I keel you!"

"Double detention!"


	122. Rule #124

Rule #124: I will not wear my DEATH EATER AND PROUD OF IT! shirt to school

I didn't think that anyone would see it under my robes. We normally never take them off during classes, so I was positive that I would be fine.

I was certain. I was positutely absotively certain that no one would see my shirt.

And then Lupin had to screw me over by saying we had a practical lesson today that involved water and that we should take off our robes so we wouldn't get dragged down.

Fuck that.

While everyone else undressed, I remained in my robes, trying not to think about how kinky it sounded to say that everyone was undressing. Orgy anyone?

"Why aren't you taking off your robes?" Professor Lupin asked.

"I don't do water," I told him. "I have this condition where I turn green and melt if I come in contact with water."

"Liar," a nearby student muttered. I glared at my housemate.

"Fine, I can't swim," I tried instead.

"You went skinny dipping in the Black Lake in the middle of winter with the Giant Squid. They found you in the middle of the lake," the student muttered again. I gave her a disbelieving look.

"Shut it!" I yelled. "Leave me with my dignity!"

"If you forgot to wear clothes under your robes, we have extras," Professor Lupin suggested.

"I'm wearing clothes!" I protested loudly. Some of the Gryffindors gave me odd looks.

"Then remove your robes and get in the water," Professor Lupin suggested. I sighed. This just wasn't my day.

"Fine, but you asked for it," I grumbled as I removed my robes. Some of the Gryffindors gasped when they saw my bright pink long-sleeved shirt that read Death Eater and Proud of It, complete with a Dark Mark on the left sleeve, where the Dark Mark would have been tattooed.

Professor Lupin gave me a disappointed look that told me we would be talking about the difference between good and bad life choices later.

"Detention," he sighed.


	123. Rule #125

Rule #125: I am not allowed to reenact famous battles of the Revolutionary War in the charms corridor

Yeah, I have absolutely no explanation for this one except that it sounded like it would be fun. I love reenactment battles. I have ever since my father took me to the United States when I was four for a Civil War reenactment.

It wasn't completely accurate. The North was supposed to win but thanks to my father and a little bit of magic, the South ended up winning instead.

My father loves to mix things up. He's probably where I get my eccentricities from.

For the record, it wasn't actually a battle I reenacted. It was more like…the Boston Tea Party.

Okay, so I may or may not have flooded the Charms corridor. I didn't know that flushing dung bombs would cause all the toilets to overflow! And I didn't realize that turning on all the sinks wouldn't get rid of the smell!

It was a very bad afternoon. That particular bathroom was out of order for weeks after this event.

So, I tried to make things better by getting the house-elves to bring me tea to dump in the flooded corridor.

At least it got rid of the smell!

However, I had forgotten that classes were in session. I nearly jumped out of my skin when the bell rang. I tried to run but it didn't work.

Do you know how hard it is to run in water?

Really bloody hard!

As the door to Professor Flitwick's classroom opened, Professor Flitwick was knocked over by a sudden rush of water. It drenched him from head to toe.

Of course, that's not saying much considering how short he is.

I still couldn't run very fast, so he unfortunately caught sight of me and let out an unearthly squeak.

That noise should never be repeated. I can't even squeak that high and I'm a girl!

"Detention!"


	124. Rule #126

Rule #126: I am not allowed to declare an official Hug A Slytherin Day

I love hugs. I don't understand why others hate them. They're so nice. They're like cuddles, where two people can cuddle each other simultaneously. I love hugs.

Oh, I said that twice. Well, let me say it a third time then. I love hugs.

Unfortunately, I rarely get them at Hogwarts. The only person that appreciates my hugs is Luna Lovegood. The others just look at me like I'm crazy.

Shut it. I know what you're thinking.

So, in order to make up for the hugs I was missing out on, I decided to declare Hug A Slytherin Day. I even had the house-elves make a banner and hang it in the Great Hall to announce the officialness to the entire student body!

And I decided that I would personally usher in Hug A Slytherin Day by standing by the doors of the Great Hall and hugging every single person that walked past.

I got up at six in the morning to do this, by the way. Just in case you were wondering. I wasn't exactly sure what time breakfast started so I got there a little early. And by a little early, I mean ninety minutes early.

What can I say? I like to be fashionably early.

"Hi! Happy Hug A Slytherin Day!" I chirped, hugging the next person in line. Surprisingly, I had gotten a few other people to join in. Luna Lovegood stood on the other side of the door and was hugging only the Slytherins. Good for her!

Releasing the person, I found my next hug.

"Hi! Happy Hug A Slytherin Day!"

Then I had to hug two people at once. Group hugs! I love group hugs!

"Weasley Bookends!" I said happily. "Happy Hug A Slytherin Day!"

They laughed and looked over at the skittish Slytherin table. I could tell that they were planning on having fun today. But that's okay. That was part of the reason for setting up Hug A Slytherin Day. To have fun and to make people happy.

I turned to the next person.

"Hi! Happy Hug A Slytherin Day!"

As I lunged for a hug, I noticed the absurd amount of black. I only know one person that wears that much black.

Professor Snape.

He stiffened as I hugged him. Apparently he wasn't used to being hugged. That's when I decided to hold on, so he could get used to the amazing feeling of being hugged.

He never relaxed. Instead, he pushed me away and looked horrified by what he had just experienced.

"Detention!"


	125. Rule #127

Rule #127: I am not allowed to introduce myself to the first years as Tim the Enchanter

Being an Enchanter sounded like fun. It sounded much more cheery than being a witch.

And Enchanter doesn't rhyme with bitch. That's always a plus.

I was just trying to help the first years. It's not like I was going to trick them into going outside and tie them to the trees in the Forbidden Forest to be eaten by werewolves or flesh eating flying monkeys. I'm not that cruel.

The first years just weren't smart enough to know that they should never ask me for directions. Either I'll have no clue where they're talking about or I'll purposely mislead them so I'll have someone else to share detention with.

Don't judge me! Detention gets lonely after a while! I like company just as much as the next person!

"Where's the Transfiguration classroom?" I overheard a first year ask. That was my cue. I slid across the floor to them. Unfortunately, it looked more like I was stumbling and tripping.

Yeah, you can't really slide in shoes. Socks work but unfortunately I've been forced to conform to society and wear shoes to all my classes. I was told it was something about the smell…

Never mind that.

"Hi there," I said. "I'm Tim the Enchanter. To get to the Transfiguration room, you'll want to take a right, go down the steps, take four rights, go up the steps, and take a left. You can't miss it!"

The first year girls stared at me in disbelief.

"Tim the Enchanter?" one asked. "But you're a girl."

I shrugged.

"Tim is a perfectly lovely name for a girl," I replied. "I like the name Tim. And I like the Enchanter part. I'm too special to be a bitch—I mean witch!"

"You told me those same directions to get to the Charms classroom yesterday," another girl pointed out.

"What? No, I didn't!" I totally did. Oh crap. She was on to me.

The girl frowned.

"I'm going to ask Professor Sprout just to be sure," she said. I cringed. I was already on Professor Sprout's bad side for not shutting the greenhouse doors the other day. Apparently she lost an entire crop of frosted spinach due to…frost. Huh. That's ironic.

"I wouldn't do that…" I started to say but the girl was already walking away. I waved at Professor Sprout when she looked over at our group. Professor Sprout glared at me and beckoned me closer.

"Remember, just go right!" I whispered to the other girls before walking over. "And if you have any questions, just ask for Tim the Enchanter!"

Professor Sprout apparently overheard that because she rolled her eyes.

"Detention."


	126. Rule #128

Rule #128: I am not Xena: Warrior Princess and I shall not use war cries to signal my entrance into any classroom

So I had a phase where I was all about empowering myself and others. Everyone goes through those, right?

I wanted to be confident. I wanted to be proud to be me.

So I researched everything I could about empowerment—once I found the right word, that is—and I researched the crap out of it.

I now consider myself an expert on how to empower people. I could be one of those motivational speaker dudes! That's an awesome career, right?

But somehow I don't think that it's the career for me. I'd prefer something with dragons. Or trolls.

Trolls are cool and I've got the whole grunting and pointing thing down. I practiced my troll speaking skills in the mornings, when it was still too early to speak.

It worked out quite nicely. I got my morning breakfast and I learned a new language.

Shortly after I had done all this research, I was feeling down. So I thought it would be the perfect chance for me to practice empowering myself.

See! A completely rational thought process! In the morning, too!

So, I decided to use one of the techniques I had heard about.

In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have trusted the homeless man who sells porn on the streets. My bad.

It was still early enough that it hadn't quite clicked in my mind that Potions was my first class of the day. I was really just going through the motions while trying to decide which battle cry to use.

There's really a lot to choose from once you start thinking about it. I finally ended up going with the Xena battle cry because I knew my voice was in that range. The other ones would have been too deep.

As I approached the door, I took a deep breath before letting out my yell.

"AYIYIYIYIYIIYIYIYIYIYIYIYI!"

I ran into the classroom and nearly tripped over a table as I ran to my seat. A few students snickered. It wasn't until I was sitting down when I realized that Professor Snape had been sitting at his desk, grading papers. Now red ink was spilled all over his desk and the papers. Professor Snape himself was covered in red. He looked furious.

Apparently Professor Snape is not a morning person.

"DETENTION!" he yelled.


	127. Rule #129

Rule #129: I will not try and start Naked Thursdays into the Common Room

I don't think I ever truly grew out of that stage when toddlers just don't want to wear clothes. I'll wear them if I have to but that doesn't mean I enjoy it.

I wish it was socially acceptable to wear nothing under robes. However, both my parents informed me that I had to wait until I moved out of the house permanently before I could start doing that.

Apparently living at Hogwarts for the majority of the year and only being home for the summers didn't qualify as being permanently moved out of the house.

But what they don't know can't hurt them.

Eventually there came a time when I hated even wearing robes.

I'm sorry but there is no way you can make robes look flattering. The only way you can make yourself look flattering is by wearing nothing at all!

I was just having one of those days where I didn't want to wear any clothes but I didn't want to be the only one wearing nothing.

So I tried to get the entire Slytherin house to join in.

Yeah, apparently a lot of Slytherins aren't as self-confident as I can be.

I snuck a notice up on the board Wednesday night before going to bed, hoping that others would see it. As I made my way to my dorm, I could see other students reading the notice.

How was I supposed to know that they thought it was a prank notice?

Thursday morning, I rolled out of bed and went straight for the common room, not bothering to get dressed. It was the first Naked Thursday after all.

As I entered the common room, I glared at all the other students. They were all wearing clothes. I was offended. They were horrified.

After a few awkward minutes of silence, a second year began running for the door.

"Professor Snape!" he cried. "She's naked! Is she supposed to be naked?"

I sighed and sat down at the floor. No doubt Professor Snape was going to come by in the next few minutes. However, I would refuse to wear clothes, no matter what he threatened or bribed.

Professor Snape didn't bother to do any of those. Instead, he just charmed clothes on me as he walked into the common room.

"Oi!" I complained and tried to tug them off. It didn't work. Instead, the clothes just got tighter.

"Little bloody fucker!" I cried, still tugging on the clothes.

Professor Snape glared at me.

"Detention."


	128. Rule #130

Rule #130: It is not necessary for me to yell "BAMF!" every time I Apparate

It's not a crime to enjoy making dramatic entrances. Trust me, I checked.

You can't deny that it's pretty awesome that wizards and witches have the ability to pop out of one place and pop into a totally different one. Something like that deserves a dramatic entrance.

And I was always told to celebrate my successes. Apparating successfully deserves a celebration.

I can't tell you how long I had been waiting to learn how to Apparate. That was my childhood dream.

Well, that and making my own personal talking mouse. Like Reepicheep from Narnia!

Whenever I get around to making my mice talk, I should remember to keep them away from the owlery. Otherwise there will probably be nasty and deadly consequences.

"Just focus on Apparating inside the hoop three meters in front of you."

I had been practicing Apparating at home—my father wasn't too happy when he learned of that—so this task was relatively easy. I imagined myself inside the hoop and then POOF! I was inside the hoop.

"BAMF!" I yelled. Then I moved on to the next hoops, knocking other students out of the way.

"BAMF!" I shouted. "BAMF!"

"What does that even mean?" I overheard an instructor ask. The students around him shrugged.

"It's her," someone said. "We don't bother asking questions anymore."

"BAMF!" I cried again, popping into the last hoop. "I am one bad-ass motherfucker!"

"Language!" Professor McGonagall shouted. Funny. I hadn't seen her come into the room. I grinned sheepishly. She glared at me.

"Detention!"


	129. Rule #131

Rule #131: I will not steal Gryffindor's sword from Dumbledore's office and use it to patrol the hallways

Can I at least use the excuse that I was waiting for the Death Eaters to show up? It was about that time again. End of the year battle and all that shit.

Something was bound to happen. I was just preparing myself.

And method number one for preparing yourself for battle?

Find something pointy and sharp. Preferably metal.

I saw the sword in Dumbledore's office and grabbed the opportunity that was presented to me. We had been having a discussion about limiting myself when I first spotted it. I know, I know. That's normally not the conversation you have with professors. Normally it's in the other direction.

But let's face it. This is me and I'm definitely the opposite of normal.

I'm not entirely sure how I snuck the sword out of Dumbledore's office but I decided that I was able to because he was old. Old people are sensitive, right?

Wait, that's not the word. Anal? Definitely not that word.

Senile! That's the word I'm looking for.

I think I was able to sneak it out because Dumbledore was going senile.

I was doing just fine patrolling the hallways for the first few minutes. Honestly, I don't see what's so hard about it. You just make sure no one's around.

Of course, it gets boring after a while. Really boring.

Really, really, really, REALLY boring. Empty hallways are no fun. It's only fun to patrol hallways with a sword when there are other people around to terrorize.

So in search of company, I sought out Sir Cadogen. We both had swords so now I could finally challenge him to a duel. I had been waiting for this day for a while.

"Sir Cadogen!" I cried, brandishing the sword and nearly toppling over. That thing was heavy! "I challenge you to a duel!"

"You shall have it!" Sir Cadogen agreed enthusiastically. "Prepare to lose! No man has ever bested me!"

"But I am not a man! I am a woman!" I announced. "I have womanly wiles as an advantage!"

"They shall not work on me! I shall not be tricked so easily!"

I grinned.

"Did you know that gullible is written on the ceiling?" I asked. Sir Cadogen looked up. I stabbed his painting.

"Missed me!" Sir Cadogen taunted and raced to the next painting. I followed and stabbed that one.

"Missed me again!"

"Stand still, you blubbering—"

"What in Merlin's pants!"

I turned and spotted Professor McGonagall standing at the end of the corridor in her night dress.

"Hey there!" I said, waving the sword in greeting. She cringed upon seeing it.

"Put that away! Detention!"


	130. Rule #132

Rule #132: I am not allowed to sing my own personal spy music while wandering the hallways

I was just trying to work on my stealth! Singing spy music helps me focus when I'm trying to work on my stealth. Yes, I know it's not the stealthiest method in the world but it works!

Now why was I working on my stealth?

Good question! I probably shouldn't answer it but at this point, I don't really care.

I was preparing to do this super awesome prank that would have required me to be super, super stealthy.

What else?

Of course, I never got around to doing that prank. It's really sad, because that was one of the few planned ones that I was looking forward to.

I never really watched spy movies, so I only knew one song by heart. Instead of trying to make up a new song—that only leads to cursing and detentions, I've learned—I just sang that one as I attempted to creep down the corridors.

"Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, Batman!

"Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, Batman!

"Batman, Batman, Batman!"

I moved on to the next corridor.

"Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, Batman!

"Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, Batman!

"Batman, Batman, Batman!"

"What are you doing?"

I tripped over my own two feet as Professor McGonagall spoke up. I yelped in pain as I knocked over a suit of armor and sent it toppling into another suit of armor.

Professor McGonagall cringed at the loud noise. I winced as there was a loud CLANG! whenever a suit of armor fell into the next.

It was like a row of dominoes, except a lot louder and not as fun looking.

Professor McGonagall shook her head and looked over at me.

"Detention," she muttered before walking away.


	131. Rule #133

Rule #133: I am not allowed to begin each Herbology class by singing the theme song to "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes"

Have you seen the things in the Herbology greenhouses? Especially ones in greenhouse three? Killer tomatoes could very well be in there, plotting to kill and take over the world!

Of course, I'd rather being ruled by tomatoes than Voldemort. I mean, the worst they can do is eat you.

Now, I didn't do this for any old greenhouse. I only planned to sing this song whenever we went into greenhouse three, because that was where I was convinced the tomatoes were kept. I had seen Professor Sprout toting them into greenhouse three! Why else would tomatoes be kept in greenhouse three?

It never crossed my mind that she was using them as fertilizer.

When Professor Sprout announced that we were going into greenhouse three for the first time in my second year, I couldn't help myself. It was perfect timing.

"Attack of the killer tomatoes!  
Attack of the killer tomatoes!  
They'll beat you, bash you, squish you, mash you  
Chew you up for brunch and finish you off for dinner or lunch!"

I began lifting up my knees to march like I had seen them march in bands. It was actually quite fun.

"They're marching down the halls  
They're crawling up the walls  
They're gooey, gushy, squishy, mushy  
Rotten to the core  
They're standing outside your door!"

By now I had taken the lead in the group. Everyone else had just stopped and stared at me. I didn't know why.

"Remember Herman Farbage  
While taking out his garbage  
He turned around and he did see tomatoes hiding in his tree  
Now he's just a memory!

"I know I'm going to miss her  
A tomato ate my sister  
Sacramento fell today  
They're marching in San Jose  
Tomatoes are on their way!"

I tried to open the door to greenhouse three but it was locked. So much for my grand entrance. I tugged on the door handle. It still wouldn't open. I continued to pull on it but it wouldn't budge. I heard laughter behind me. I kicked at the door and pouted. I heard wailing inside greenhouse three.

"Entertaining as this is," Professor Sprout spoke up. "Your actions will wake the Mandrakes. Detention."


	132. Rule #134

Rule #134: I will not teach the first years to play The Penis Game in the Great Hall during dinner

I was just trying to bond with the Muggleborns. Not many older students take the initiative to do so!

And I really don't understand what's so scandalous about this game. It's just replacing one word with another. There's nothing scandalous about that!

I don't understand why the word "penis" is so horrifying to adults. They say "cock" and "willy" and "dick" all the time. Hell, two of those are even names for people! What's so awful about saying the word penis?

That's its actual name…Why is slang okay and not the actual word? Isn't it normally the other way around?

Now why Muggleborns, you ask. That's simple. Muggleborns are typically the only ones that have seen films and I've learned from past experience that the best way to play this game is to use the name of films.

Thankfully it's not a very difficult game. I normally have to explain it once and then students are so intrigued and scandalized that they want to give it a try. Once they give it a try, it's hard to stop.

I know from experience.

"What's next?" I asked. The first years looked around to make sure that no one was watching.

"Bravepenis," one whispered. The first years giggled. I booed.

"That's boring," I replied. "Next?"

"Toy Penis!" Another said. They were starting to get louder and more bold. Good for them!

"Dances with Penis."

"Miss Penis!"

"Penis Girls!"

At this point, I was rolling on the ground, laughing. Some of these were pure gold. I think I preferred these names than the original names.

"Monster Penis!"

"Lord of the Penis!"

"Charlie and the Chocolate Penis!"

I started crying from laughing so hard. With great difficulty I stood up and shouted,

"I've got the winner!" I announced to the first years. "Harry Potter and the Penis of Secrets!"

I didn't realize how far my voice carried until that moment. Then, as if they had practiced it, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape stood up, glaring at me.

"DETENTION!"


	133. Rule #135

Rule #135: I am not allowed to paint the house elves blue

But…smurfs! I was making smurfs! How is that not acceptable? Smurfs are absolutely adorable! I was just trying to make the house-elves more adorable.

And more easily spotted. Merlin, house-elves blend in insanely well. I don't like the thought of being spied on by little creatures, so I wanted to make it easier to spot them when they spy on students.

It was surprisingly easy to convince the house-elves to paint themselves blue. I didn't even have to supply the paint. I just told them that I wondered how they would look with blue skin. They were surprisingly accommodating.

Now if the rest of my year could have gone that smoothly. Hell, even if the rest of my day had gone that smoothly, I would have been a happy woman.

Sadly, I am not that lucky. I never have been.

"Is we blue enough?" one asked. I tilted my head as I regarded the small fleet of house-elves. They were definitely blue, just a mixture of different shades.

"Yep! That's perfect. You make adorable smurfs!" I announced. They looked at me in confusion.

"We thought we is being house-elves," one said. "What is being a smurf?"

"Little blue creatures that live outdoors. Just remember to avoid cats from now on. They'll try and eat you."

"But cats is never eating us before."

"Well, you weren't blue before. Cats like to eat blue things, meaning they like to eat smurfs."

Never before did I see so many creatures break out into tears and terrified yells at the same time. I definitely wasn't expecting that.

So I did the only thing I could think of. I started panicking.

And by panicking, I mean I grabbed a knife and stood on top of a table and screamed my lungs off.

It didn't take very long for professors to come running to the scene.

Judging by their reactions, I guessed that they hadn't seen many students standing on top of a table, waving a knife, surrounded by screaming and crying blue creatures.

The group of professors looked at each other before letting out long sighs.

"Detention," they said together.


	134. Rule #136

Rule #136: I will not organize a Hogwarts Fight Club

Yeah, I should have taken notes from what I saw the DA fail to do.

Mainly, make sure that the people I let in don't squeal to the professors.

And I probably shouldn't have hung posters in all of the common rooms. That was maybe probably a bad idea.

Okay, I lied. That definitely was a bad idea.

But hey, at least I got people to show up.

I stood in front of the group, a stern look on my face.

"Welcome to Fight Club," I said. "Before we do anything else, I must first lay out the rules."

"There's rules?" someone muttered. I glared at them and crossed my arms.

"Of course there's rules," I snapped. "What do you think this is? A class where you can do whatever you want? Absolutely not!"

"First rule!" I announced. "You do not talk about Fight Club."

No one complained so I moved on.

"Second rule! You do not talk about Fight Club."

"You just said that," someone muttered.

"I'm trying to get my point across," I snapped. "Third rule!"

"Let me guess, no talking about Fight Club?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Now you're just being ridiculous," I said. "Of course it's not."

I got a few disbelieving looks but I ignored those.

"The third rule is that if someone says "stop" or goes limp or taps out, the fight is over."

"What kind of fighting are we talking about?" a girl in the back asked.

"The only way of fighting," I replied. "We shall fight…with our fists!"

A few of the students backed away at that declaration. I thought it was just due to my passion. I didn't know it was because someone new had come in through the door. I couldn't have known because I was standing with my back to the door.

Other students looked confused by my declaration. I sighed and beckoned a student forward. It was a Gryffindor—a mousey looking thing. His name was Dreary, I think.

No, that's not right. Gravy? Creaky?

Ah, Creevey. That was his name.

"What are you going to do?" he asked me.

"Show them how real fighting is done," I replied.

"And what exactly does that entail?" he asked. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm going to punch you," I explained. "Now stand still."

His eyes widened as I drew my fist back, preparing to punch him. He got lucky because I never actually got around to punching him. Instead, someone grabbed my hand.

I tried to yank it out of the person's grasp but couldn't. I turned to face them.

It was Professor Snape, naturally. I cringed, knowing what was probably coming.

"Detention!"


	135. Rule #137

Rule #137: It is a bad idea to tell Professor Snape he takes himself too seriously

Okay, even I knew this one. I learned after I told McGonagall the same thing.

However, I was dared to do it and I never turn down a dare! Especially not a triple dog dare!

And yes, I am well aware that I was a teenager and no longer in primary school. Still, the rules from my younger years still applied and that means that triple dog dares can never be rejected unless I wanted to be cursed for all eternity!

I always took those threats about being cursed very seriously when I was younger. After all, I actually knew that magic and curses existed, unlike most of my primary school classmates.

If you're wondering who would triple dog dare me to do this, I'll tell you.

The Weasley twins.

Who else? They're the only ones who would even think of doing something like this. They even made sure that they were in the vicinity when I decided to fulfill the dare.

I rolled my eyes as they ushered me forward. Impatient little buggers. I like to do things on my own time.

Oh well. Good thing I already had a plan.

I crossed my arms across my chest and began to spin. As I continued to spin, I gained speed and began to move towards the Potions classroom, where Professor Snape was currently teaching a class of second years. I was just grateful that the door was slightly open. It meant that I could actually enter the room without having to stop spinning.

As I entered the room while spinning, I made sure to knock over a few Potions ingredients on students' desks. Some second years screamed as their desks went up in flames.

It didn't take long for Professor Snape to intervene.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

"Imitating a Tasmanian Devil," I replied happily. Professor Snape didn't look as happy as I did.

"Detention!"

I rolled my eyes and poked him.

"You take everything too seriously," I replied. "Lighten up a bit."

Professor Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"What did you just say?" he asked. I sighed loudly.

"I said that you take yourself too seriously," I repeated, this time slower and louder. The students in the classroom were torn between being horrified and amused.

Professor Snape snarled.

"Detention for the next week!"


	136. Rule #138

Rule #138: I will not tell the first years that Professor Snape is the Voice of God

I really thought Professor Snape would have appreciated this one. I was teaching the first years to respect him. He always complained about not having enough respect.

Of course, I should have known that the first years would argue. That's what I get for dealing with Gryffindors. They're so argumentative and refuse to listen.

I don't understand their grudge against Slytherins. Yes, I'll agree that there are some Slytherins that are snobbish and that don't understand the meaning of the word fun but I'm not like that!

In fact, I'm the exact opposite of that.

And I certainly don't know where they got the opinion that Slytherins are untrustworthy. We don't lie all that often.

Well, some of us don't. I can't say anything for the others in my house.

I sat among the Gryffindor first years during lunch one day. I had already convinced the other three houses. This should have been a piece of cake.

Never again will I underestimate the stubbornness of Gryffindors.

"Poll time!" I announced as I sat down. A few of the Gryffindors tried to scoot away.

"What do you want?" a first year asked hostilely. I ignored the hostility. It was like a puppy attempting to growl for the first time. Cute, but not particularly intimidating.

"Would you or would you not agree that Professor Snape is the Voice of God?" I asked. Most of the Gryffindors nodded in agreement but the one that originally spoke up rolled his eyes.

"Not even close."

I glared at him. He dared to go against me? Me, of all people?

"Yes, he is!" I said.

"No, he's really not."

"Is so!"

"Is not?"

"Then who would you say is the Voice of God?" I demanded.

"Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore," the first year replied. I got abruptly to my feet and glared down at him.

"Meer peasants," I sneered. He got to his feet and tried to lunge across the table. I stepped back.

"Take that back!" he cried.

"No! Not until you admit I'm right and say that Professor Snape is the Voice of God!"

"Never!"

"Peasants!" I taunted.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes! Peasants!"

"Git!"

I gasped.

"Take that back!"

"If I don't?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Or I'll throw you off the Astronomy Tower," I threatened. He laughed at that.

"I don't believe you," he said. I sighed and reached across the table. I grabbed his ear and began to tug him toward the door. The Gryffindor first year tried to struggle but I had a pretty strong grip. I picked up some tips from Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape over the years.

"Let me go!" he wailed.

"Nope! I have something to follow through on!" I snapped.

"And what exactly are you going to follow through on?" Professor Snape asked. He had moved to block my access to the door.

"I have to throw this git off the Astronomy Tower," I said. "Would you please step aside and let me through?"

Professor Snape sighed and didn't move.

"Detention."


	137. Rule #139

Rule #139: I will not dress up in a Dementor suit and use a Dustbuster on Harry's lips to get him to do what I want

Ah Halloween. It's a holiday that offers so many opportunities.

Plus I get to dress up! That's always a plus.

Dressing up as a Dementor is actually a really cheap costume once you think about it. All you need is an overlarge cloak with a hood. It was the Dustbuster that I had difficulties with, since most Muggle inventions can't work in Hogwarts.

Most, not all. I worked my way around that problem eventually. I didn't turn in a few month's worth of homework and essays but I thought the result was well worth it.

My professors didn't agree with me.

For once, Professor Snape didn't send me back to the common room immediately upon seeing me. Instead he just shook his head.

Granted, it was still early in the morning. He might not have been awake yet.

Or he might have just thought that my oversized cloak was a new fashion statement.

Either way, I wouldn't complain.

Potty Potter and his friends weren't really paying attention to anything going on around them. I wasn't really surprised. The Golden Trio tended to ignore what was going on in the rest of the school if the events didn't concern them.

It made for some excellent opportunities for me and the Weasley twins.

I snuck up behind Potty Potter and looked down at my hands, wondering what to use first. After a few seconds, I decided.

I clicked the fan on and aimed it directly at the back of Potty Potter's neck. He shivered slightly but didn't turn around. I grinned, but it was hidden underneath the hood of my cloak.

I pulled out my next bag of tricks and grabbed the back of Potty Potter's robe. As he jerked in surprise, I poured the bag of ice down the back of his shirt.

He gave a high-pitched yelp and tried to turn around to confront me.

"What the bloody—"

He couldn't finish his sentence because I had attached the Dustbuster to his lips.

"Say, Potter, want to get a head start on defeating Voldemort? I'm getting real sick of waiting on you," I said.

He glared at me and tried to pull his lips away from the Dustbuster. He was unsuccessful.

"Detention!" Professor McGonagall cried from her spot at the head table.


	138. Rule #140

Rule #140: I will not start food fights in the Great Hall

I refuse to take all the blame for this. The Weasley twins need to take some of the blame. Two-thirds of the blame should do.

So, yes, the Weasley twins are two-thirds responsible for this incident.

For once, most of the blame doesn't rest on me.

And yet, I still get blamed an equal amount. It's not fair.

Whenever this gets brought up for the rest of my life, I will stop my foot, cross my arms, and pout because it isn't fair.

Why isn't this fair? Is that what you're asking? I'll tell you why.

Because I didn't even fling the first handful of food! The Weasley twins did!

At the beginning of the year, the Weasley twins and I had declared a prank war. We weren't safe anywhere. Not even in our common rooms.

It was a fun year and the best part? I don't think the professors even realized we had started a prank war. They were too busy focusing on other things.

Like the Triwizard tournament. Whatever. I'm just glad that it was happening because it kept the focus off of me.

We had decided to start the prank war when we got onto the train. Insults were traded, laughs were shared, and they got me with a ton-tongue toffee.

It was awesome.

So the only thing we had to do to make the prank war official was to make a public statement.

I assumed we would have done something on the first day of classes but apparently the Weasley bookends were feeling impatient.

So they did the most mature thing they could think of.

They started flicking olives at me with their spoons. I rolled my eyes the first few times but when one landed in my beautiful chicken soup, I couldn't take it any longer.

I glared at them and flicked a piece of potato in their direction.

In return, they took a piece of kidney pie and launched it in my direction.

I tried to duck but let's face it. It's a well-known fact that whenever I try to duck, I normally get hit in the face.

Which is exactly what happened.

I screeched as kidney pie rolled down my forehead and onto my nose and chin. I stood up, glaring at the Weasley bookends before grabbing the bowl of chicken soup and marching over to the Gryffindor table to pour it over their heads. Then I clambered onto the table and announced loudly to the crowd of watching students,

"It is time…for a FOOD FIGHT!"

Yeah, teenagers don't need much encouragement when it comes to participating in a food fight. Within seconds, food was flying around the Great Hall.

Naturally I was a target since I was standing on top of the table. I didn't exactly think that one through. By the time I managed to get off the table, I was coated in various kinds of food. Once on the ground, I ran for the only plates of food that hadn't been touched—the ones on the head table.

Once in reaching distance, I lunged for a bowl of potatoes. However, as soon as I touched the bowl, I was being yanked away and dragged out of the Great Hall.

"Let me go! I wanna do the food fight!" I whined. I was dropped on the floor.

As I cursed and sat up, I saw Professor Snape. He was just as covered in food as I was. Apparently he had been a target as well. I wonder why…

"Detention for a month!" he snarled.


	139. Rule #141

Rule #141: I will not scare the Arithmancy students with my Calculus book

It's not what it sounds like!

One, it wasn't actually my book. It was actually my mother's.

Two, I never actually opened the book, so I don't exactly know what was inside it. Though, according to my mother, the material inside was bloody magic.

Yeah…she's not exactly a math person. It wasn't really a stretch to get her to give it to me. In fact, she actually shoved it in my arms and told me to do whatever I wanted with it.

A few of her suggestions included dropping it off of the Astronomy Tower, feeding it to the Giant Squid, and burning it in Potions' class.

Instead, I decided to chase my fellow students around with it.

It's not my fault that they were afraid of it. Anyone would be naturally afraid of a textbook that was as large and as thick as Crabbe's head.

Don't tell him I said that.

It all started shortly before class when the Professor went to go gather the materials for the day. The boys in front of me decided to do what boys do best—gossip.

I ignored them until I heard my name come up a few times. Then I started to listen in.

"Funny little idiot," one of them muttered.

"Bloody stupid. You would think—"

I had heard enough. I don't mind people calling me mad or eccentric but I won't be called an idiot.

So I did what any girl would do.

I grabbed the biggest book in my bag and hit one of the boys over the head with it. He fell to the ground, unconscious.

The boy beside him jumped in surprise.

"What'd you do that for?" he demanded. I glared at him.

"I heard what you were saying," I snarled. "You're next."

The boy jumped out of the desk and began to run. I tightened my hold on the book and began to run after him.

"Get back here, you little weasel!" I called, holding the book over my head. He kept running and ran straight into the professor. Since I was following him, I naturally ran into the pair as well.

I raised the book over my head, preparing to hit the boy. The professor spotted what was about to happen and decided to tackle me.

Actually tackle me.

"Detention!"


	140. Rule #142

Rule #142: "To conquer the earth with an army of flying monkeys" is not an appropriate career choice

Ah, the fifth year career talks. Quite pointless, in my opinion. Why should we decided what we want to do for the rest of our lives when we're just fifteen. It just doesn't make any sense.

Yes, I know that we become adults when we're seventeen but I still had two years of my childhood left. Two years is a long time, especially for youngsters like myself (I will never consider myself old. I will always be young at heart, according to my parents).

And I change my mind every day. You can't honestly expect me to make a life changing decision when that happens.

So, I had no clue what would happen after I graduated. There was really no chance that I would take this meeting seriously.

I think that Professor Slughorn knew that. So he came prepared.

He brought candy and Professor Snape. Smart man. However, it still wasn't going to work. I had already decided that Merlin himself couldn't do anything to make me take this seriously.

I stared down the two men across the table. They stared back. Eventually Professor Slughorn cleared his throat nervously.

"So, life after Hogwarts," he began.

"I, for one, will be immensely surprised if she even graduates," Professor Snape interjected. I grinned maliciously.

"What? Terrified of the havoc I'll wreak on the world once I become an adult and live in the adult world?" I asked. Professor Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Terrified? No. Concerned for the general sanity of the world? A bit. Giving you to the dementors upon graduation would be the safest course of action."

I was beaming now. Professor Snape was so sweet. I knew he was going to miss me once I graduated.

"Merlin, Marlin," I replied, waving his comments away. "And I'd gladly welcome dementors at the graduation ceremony. We're great pals."

Professor Snape didn't look surprise. Professor Slughorn cleared his throat to bring us back to the original topic of the meeting.

"What are you thinking of pursuing as a career?" he asked. My smile widened. I had already planned my answer to that question.

"To conquer the earth with an army of flying monkeys," I replied. Professor Slughorn sighed and Professor Snape glared at me.

"Try again," Professor Snape ordered. I moved to my back-up answer.

"To terrify munchkins and feed on their fear," I said.

"You can't stay here to torment first years," Professor Snape replied. "That position has already been occupied by Peeves. Try again."

On to the second runner-up.

"Rule the Western lands with an army of Winkies," I announced.

"Don't you remember what happened last time with the marshmallows? I don't think moving on to fried foods will work much better."

"Winkies, not Twinkies," I corrected. "And if I used Twinkies, I would have already conquered the United States."

I nearly got Professor Snape to smile with that comment. Unfortunately Professor Slughorn didn't find is as amusing.

"I can't take this anymore!" he announced, getting to his feet. He pointed at me. "You clearly need to think more on your future. We'll meet again next week."

I pouted and crossed my arms.

"When am I supposed to think more?" I demanded. "I'm busy studying for my O.W.L.s."

"No, you're not," Professor Snape said dryly.

"You'll think about it in…" Professor Slughorn trailed off. Professor Snape smirked wickedly. My eyes widened. He wasn't seriously—

"Detention."


	141. Rule #143

Rule #143: I will not sing, "We're off to see the wizard" when sent to the Headmaster's office

I was just trying to make a bad situation better!

To tell you the truth, I don't even remember why I was being sent to Professor Dumbledore's office. I think it had something to do with a monkey, a leprechaun, a goblet of pumpkin juice, and a ball of yarn.

Yeah, that was definitely it.

Heh. That was a good one.

Professor McGonagall had threatened to drag me to Professor Dumbledore's office if I didn't go there willingly, so I just shrugged and began to skip out of the room. As I was passing through the doorway, inspiration struck. I began to hum and then belt out the song. I'm really surprised this hasn't been done before. The opportunity was golden.

"We're off to see the Wizard

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz!

We hear he is a Whiz of a Wiz

If ever a Wiz there was!

If ever, oh ever, a Wiz there was

The Wizard of Oz is one because

Because, because, because, because, because

Because of the wonderful things he does!

We're off to see the wizard

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz!"

Apparently Professor McGonagall overheard me because she rushed into the hall, glowering. I stopped skipping and examined her with a tilted head.

"Is there something else you wanted, Professor?" I asked. "I was only singing."

If I thought Professor McGonagall was furious before, it was nothing compared to what she was now. She was at her wit's end. One would say that she was actually livid.

"DETENTION!"


	142. Rule #144

Rule #144: The Whomping Willow is not an Entwife

I can't think of any student that doesn't enjoy a professor going off on a rant about something that doesn't relate to the class subject. It wastes class time, you don't have to take notes, and it's easier to fall asleep in class without being noticed.

I'm pretty good at starting these rants. How do you think I manage to get away with sleeping in class and skipping out early.

It was too simple to get Professor Sprout to go off on a rant. I learned early on that she hated it when students mislabeled a plant.

So one day, when I didn't want to be in class any longer, I raised my hand.

"Yes?" Professor Sprout asked. I smiled.

"Is it true that the Whomping Willow is, in fact, an Entwife?" I asked. Professor Sprout grimaced.

"There's no such thing as an Entwife," she said. "And the Whomping Willow is a Whomping Willow."

"Really? Because I've heard otherwise."

That was enough to set Professor Sprout off. She began to rant and as she started, I saw half the class either start to fall asleep or begin to pay more attention to what was going on outside of the greenhouse.

After fifteen minutes, I assumed it was safe to leave.

Of course, it's hard to sneak out when the professor ranting is less than a meter away.

I had gotten no further than a few steps when Professor Sprout noticed me trying to sneak off.

"And where do you think you're going?"

I turned around and smiled innocently.

"Washroom?" I tried. Professor Sprout raised an eyebrow. I grimaced and tried again.

"I'm hungry?" Professor Sprout raised her other eyebrow.

"So you were saying that the Whomping Willow is an Entwife?" I said. Professor Sprout scowled.

"Detention!"


	143. Rule #145

Rule #145: It is not necessary to yell "BURN!" every time Professor Snaps takes points from Gryffindor

I was just trying to make things more interesting. For someone who can be overdramatic at times, Professor Snape sure is boring in the way he takes away points. He's just so...matter of fact about it.

Honestly. He's ruining a Gryffindor's day when he takes away points. He can at least make the event memorable.

I knew my best hope of convincing Professor Snape to use my method of making things memorable was when we had double Potions. That was always when he took the most points off of Gryffindor.

Not that I can blame him. I doubt that there's a Slytherin in the world that can stand Gryffindors for more than one class period. Two class periods together is pure torture to most of us.

I didn't think I was going to get into any trouble. Professor Snape would never take away points from Slytherin house and I was booked solid for detention for the next month. I really thought I would be safe.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Professor Snape announced less than five minutes into the lesson.

"Oh!" I yelled. "BURN!"

Professor Snape glanced at me.

"It's not possible for you to have burned yourself already and I won't be sending you to the Hospital Wing if you do manage to burn yourself," he said. It took all of my self control to keep from laughing.

Meaning, I lasted all of three seconds before I fell to the ground, laughing my head off. Professor Snape just stepped over me and kept on teaching.

Ten minutes later, we had started our practical and Professor Snape got the opportunity to take off more points.

"That's the wrong color, Weasley. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Girl Weasley didn't look happy.

"BURN!" I cried, pointing at her as I stood up in my chair. Girl Weasley went from humiliated to murderous.

"Sit down," Professor Snape growled.

Twenty minutes later, there was a small explosion. For once it wasn't me. A few seconds later, there was a second explosion.

Yeah, that one was mine. Professor Snape was furious.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," he snarled. "And you can clean your mess up in detention."

"BURN!" I yelled. Professor Snape turned to me.

"Detention for you as well!" he yelled.


	144. Rule #146

Rule #146: "Y'all check this here shit out!" is not an appropriate way to announce that you are about to perform an experimental spell.

Well, it's not like I didn't give no warning. Students still had time to find cover. I've clearly learned since my first and second years.

I can't help the fact that I was bored during dinner one night. Classes were done, I had finished my meal, and I had already decided I wasn't going to bother with homework. I had nothing to do.

Since I couldn't think if anything better to do, I decided to come up with my very own spell.

Easier thought than done. It's hard coming up with a spell that's never been done before. Near the end of dinner, I just decided to say whatever came to mind first.

I stood up on the bench and looked around.

"Don't do it," one of my housemates said. I ignored her.

"Y'all check this here shit out!" I shouted and pointed my wand at the Hufflepuff table. They scrambled away as I said my spell.

"Explosium Maximus!" I yelled. A blue light shot out of the end of my wand and the Great Hall was covered in dust. When the dust cleared, I could see that a large section of the Hufflepuff table was missing and in it's place was a small crater.

Professor McGonagall got to her feet, coughing.

"D-detention!"


	145. Rule #147

Rule #147: I will not hold my wand in the air before casting a spell and shout "I have the power!"

Ah, Lockhart's dueling club. Those were the good old days. Lockhart was the only professor that would allow me to get away with things, mostly because he was so self-obsessed and oblivious.

I attended the dueling club because I knew I would get a few laughs out of the experience. Students attacking students?

Even I knew that things would end horribly.

And I was just a first year at the time.

Since I was just a first year at the time, I was still new to the idea of spell casting. I didn't know the fancy ins and outs of dueling.

So I made things up as I went along.

After the whole Potter debacle, there were a few more lessons in dueling. I was pretty much getting my ass kicked so I did something desperate.

I stood out.

Once all the bowing stuff was out of the way, I dodged the spell and raised my own wand to the ceiling.

"I have the power!" I shouted. As my declaration rang around the room, a silver light emitted from my wand.

"Don't do that," I hissed to my wand and shook it a little. The silver light broke away from my wand and broke off part of the ceiling. The chunk nearly fell on Professor Snape, who glared at it and then me.

"Detention."


	146. Rule #148

Rule #148: I am not the King of the Potato People and I do not have a flying carpet

I should really just cross off the second half of this rule since I actually do have a flying carpet. My parents just force me to keep it at home since they're technically illegal. Technically.

They also claim some rubbish about it being an antique and that it's not safe to ride on. I don't believe them though. I've ridden it plenty of times. There're usually only four or five crashes per ride. On a nice day.

Of course, I couldn't be satisfied with just having a flying carpet.

I had to have my potato people as well.

The good thing about living in the wizarding world is that I had my choice of what I could declare as my potato people. It was a short list, but at least I had choices.

Garden gnomes were quickly discarded since they were too spiky. House elves were discarded because their ears were too large. Which left…

The goblins.

Once I had chosen the goblins to be my new potato people, I sent off a letter declaring myself as their new king and that they would henceforth be known as the "Potato People". I would expect their pledges of allegiance within the fortnight.

I wasn't afraid of any retaliation. The worst the goblins could do was start a war against all wizards and witches and refuse to give back the gold in our vaults. And if that happened, I could have been featured in Professor Binns' class!

Unfortunately, I forgot that Professor Snape checked the mail I sent out for exactly that reason—we already had one war brewing. We didn't need a second.

The day after I sent the letter, Professor Snape called me down to his office. I skipped down there, thinking that some goblins had already arrived to declare their support.

"Welcome, my dear subjects!" I cried as I burst into the office, arms spread open. Professor Snape merely sighed and shook his head.

"Nice try. Detention."


	147. Rule #149

Rule #149: I will not tell Sir Cadogan that the Knights Who Say Ni have challenged him to a duel and have students yell "Ni!" from various directions

I always felt bad for Sir Cadogan. He was always willing to help a student out and all he wanted in return was a duel, which no student ever gave him.

Instead, they merely called him mad.

So, as a going away present, I gave him the duel he always wanted.

I spent nearly a month planning this going away present. Not only did I have to get other students involved, but I also had to get appropriate costumes without getting caught. Otherwise Sir Cadogan would never accept the challenge of a duel.

So, every night I would sneak out of the Slytherin common room after hours and steal a helmet off a suit of armor.

I was smart about getting my costumes. I didn't start by stealing the helmets off of the suits of armor stationed closest to the Slytherin common room. That would have been too obvious. Instead, I started stealing the ones by the Gryffindor common room.

When the fourth or fifth helmet went missing, the professors started to realize that something was wrong. Within the week, I was being dragged to Professor McGonagall's office to be questioned. The professors were convinced that I was behind it. They were right, but I wasn't about to admit that. Not even when Professor McGonagall questioned me for the third time.

Seriously, I was in the Headmistress's office that year more than any other year. Professor McGonagall was a very strict headmistress.

I drove her nuts.

Eventually all the students I needed were recruited and I had stolen the right amount of helmets. It was time for the duel.

The time of the duel was during lunch so all of the seventh years snuck out to find Sir Cadogan's portrait. As they snuck out of the Great Hall, I passed out the helmets that I had stored in a cardboard box.

Once all the helmets were handed out, I approached Sir Cadogan.

"Sir Cadogan!" I called, bursting into the corridor.

"What is it, my comrade?" the knight asked eagerly.

"A duel!" I declared.

"A duel? With whom?"

"The Knights of Ni have challenged you to a duel!" I announced and rammed a helmet on my head. The rest of the students filed into the corridor, all wearing their helmets. I was so proud.

"Ni!" the first student cried. Sir Cadogan drew his sword and turned to face them.

"Ni!" a second student yelled from the other end of the corridor. Sir Cadogan turned around.

"Ni!"

"Ni!"

"Ni!"

"Ni!"

"Ni!"

After a few minutes, Sir Cadogan was spinning around, an impressive feat considering the amount of armor he was wearing.

When the time was right, I stepped forward.

"Ni!" I cried. Sir Cadogan spun one last time before toppling to the ground. A few students cheered before someone spotted an extra body in the room. A body that didn't have a helmet on.

"It's Professor McGonagall! Run!"

Within seconds, the corridor was cleared except for me and Professor McGonagall. The headmistress held out her hand. With a dramatic sigh and a disappointed pout, I handed over my helmet. Professor McGonagall glanced at Sir Cadogan's portrait before looking at me again.

"Detention."


	148. Rule #150

Rule #150: Getting everyone into the Great Hall to do the Time Warp will not earn me any house points

It wasn't so much the extra points as much as it was leaving behind a legacy. The Weasley twins left behind one, so it was only right that I left behind one as well. I just so happened to choose the Time Warp to be my legacy.

I thought it was a good legacy.

The entire last week of my seventh year was torture. I didn't want anyone to suspect that this was coming, so I was extra good. There were no pranks, no sneaking out, no explosions, no genius ideas, and no foul language.

Like I said, it was torture. I don't understand how students did that for all seven years.

The closest thing I did that went against school rules was going into the other houses' common rooms during free period.

And that doesn't count since I was let in. I didn't break in.

Graduation was actually kind of boring. I could have made it so much better but I was still trying to be good. There were dull speeches and dull music. Really, is it too much to ask for a little pop or a little rock instead of classical orchestral music?

The only interesting part was when I went to go get my diploma. I attempted to high five Professor McGonagall but she refused to comply. Professor Snape's portrait scowled and rolled his eyes. I stuck my tongue out at him.

When I walked across the stage, my father blew a vuvuzuela he had snuck in. I don't think the people sitting beside my father were very happy.

Finally Professor McGonagall began her last speech. It was one of those classic speeches about bright futures and moving forward. I'm proud to say that I was even featured in the speech. It was only one line but hey, at least I can cross that goal off my list now.

Then Professor McGonagall uttered the final sentence.

"I now present to you the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding alumni class of nineteen hundred and ninety-nine."

I never said it was a short sentence.

When she finished, I stood up in my chair.

"Hit it, Peeves!" I shouted as students began to push their chairs to the side of the Great Hall. Music began to blast from the magical ceiling.

All of the newly graduated students formed their lines, while I took the lead.

"Let's do the time warp again.

Let's do the time warp again.

"It's just a jump to the left.

And then a step to the right.

Put your hands on your hips

"You bring your knees in tight

But it's the pelvic thrust,

That really drives you insane

Let's do the time warp again

Let's do the time warp again."

A few of the parents (mostly those that had lived in the Muggle world) joined in. My father joined me at the head of the group. My mother just watched, shaking her head.

"Let's do the time warp again

Let's do the time warp again.

"Well, I was walking down the street

Just a-having a think

When a snake of a guy gave me an

Evil wink—"

"It's Voldemort!" I shouted.

"He shook-a me up, he took me by surprise

He had a pickup truck, and the

Devil's eyes

He stared at me and I felt a change

Time meant nothing, never would again."

Now most of the families and professors joined in. Even the Fat Friar was attempting to learn the steps.

"Let's do the time warp again.

Let's do the time warp again.

"It's just a jump to the left.

And then a step to the right.

Put your hands on your hips

"You bring your knees in tight

But it's the pelvic thrust,

That really drives you insane

"Let's do the time warp again

Let's do the time warp again."

When the music trailed off, I looked at Professor McGonagall. She was laughing and shaking her head as she approached me.

"Normally, I'd give you a detention but I can't anymore," she said. I grinned.

I would never get a detention again.


	149. Epilogue

So what have I done since I left Hogwarts?

Nothing too special.

I just became the world's only part-time hit witch, part-time security troll trainer. I put my talents to good use. I use my innovative thinking to come up with new ways to off my targets and I used my slightly questionable, highly unrecommended methods to train the trolls.

They love me.

However, I didn't start off in that career, I had to try a few things before that.

I tried to become a curse breaker but I got fired when I decided to head butt a set of wards that were keeping me out. The head butt broke it but a few people nearly got killed.

Then I tried to become the tea cart lady on the Hogwarts Express but apparently no one, especially the professors, wanted me anywhere near the school.

Or the students.

Oh well. Half of the professors retired anyway after I left.

Well, anyway. That's how I got 150 rules created just for me. There's probably more that I just don't know about. After all, they had to rewrite the school's rulebook after I left.

And that's how I, Faye Davor, became a Hogwarts legend.


End file.
